


The Farmer's Wife

by tellyoscar



Category: The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Other, Richonne - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2018-11-09 04:35:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11097024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tellyoscar/pseuds/tellyoscar
Summary: On the night of one of the deadliest snow storms in Virginia's history Rick Grimes encountered an alluring woman stranded on the side of a rural Virginia road with a dead cell phone and broken down car.





	1. Chapter One: The Beautiful Stranger

**Chapter One: The Beautiful Stranger**

* * *

 

It was the night of one of the worst snowstorm’s in Virginia’s history when Rick first saw her. He was driving back from the store and she was sitting in her car on the shoulder of the road with a dead cell phone and a blinking broken-down car while the heavy snow plummeted to the ground.

His nine-year-old son, Carl, had met his eyes when they saw the raised hood and blinking lights. “We should help?” he said through a mouthful of potato chips.

Rick pulled off to the side of the road. “Wait here.”

He stepped out of his truck, approaching what appeared to be a woman sitting in the car. As he grew closer he saw her eyes slightly widen at the sight of him. “You okay?” he asked when she hastily rolled down her window.

“Yeah…I mean no. Not really. I think I’m a little lost.” She stepped out of the car, pulling her jacket tighter against her body, and balled her hands into fists in reaction to the cold air. She wore flowy colorful clothing and wasn’t particularly dressed for standing on the side of a road in rural Virginia during a winter storm. “I’m trying to get back to Alexandria. I think I took a wrong turn or something. I stopped to try to figure out where I am, but then my car wouldn’t start and now I’m stuck here.”

“You sure did take a wrong turn. Did you contact roadside assistance?”

She hesitated before finally answering. “My phone died. I didn’t have any service when I tried to make a call anyway.” She looked conflicted as she pressed her full lips together in a slight grimace. “Do you have a phone on you? I need to call for some help. Also, can you possibly tell me where exactly I am.”

“I don’t have a phone on me,” he said apologetically. “I left it back at the farm since I rarely have any service around here anyway.”

“Fucking great,” she groaned, slumping back against her car in defeat. “This day can’t get any worse before it’s over.”

“You can ride back with us and we can call for a tow truck or something,” he suggested. “I highly doubt you’d get any tonight though. This is a pretty secluded area and this storm is supposed to be bad. They’re expecting eight inches and they think it might be the worst since 1983.”

She took a small step closer to her car door as her dark eyes quickly darted between him and her car as she considered his offer. “I get it,” he chuckled. “Going off with a stranger is not always the best idea. But, I’ve gotta tell you. That snow is coming down harder and harder and you’re not going to make it back to the city tonight. You can trust me. I have no reason to hurt you or anyone.”

She smiled tightly. “Right.”

“My place is not too far from here.” He looked back at the car where Carl was staring intently out of the windshield. “We are actually just getting back from picking up supplies.”

“We?”

“My son Carl and I.”

“This better not end in my murder,” she grumbled and he could hear the small waver in her voice. She cocked her head and raised a challenging brow at him. “Try anything and I’ll kick your ass.”

She turned back to her car, opening her door to grab her personal belongings, which consisted of her handbag and an orange medium sized travel duffel.

Rick held the front passenger door for her to get in while Carl curiously observed the woman from his seat in the back of the truck. “Hi, I’m Carl.”

“Michonne.” Her lips curled into that breathtaking smile that Rick would come to love like no other as the years passed. It stood out in a beautiful contrast against her mahogany skin. “And what about you Mr. Samaritan?”

“Rick,” he said as he started the truck.

She hummed, flipping her dark dreadlocked hair, which was sprinkled with snow, over her shoulder. “Nice to meet you, Rick and Carl. Thanks a lot for stopping to help.”

“We’re happy to.”

The short ride to the farm was mostly a quiet one. Rick drove along the bumpy dirt road, cautiously aware of Michonne’s discomfort with the seclusion of where they were headed. The farm was covered in shrubbery and overgrown trees from years of disuse.

He drove as close as he could manage to the main house, putting the car in park. “This is us.”

 “Dad and I are gonna be farmers,” Carl proclaimed somewhat proudly.

“Really? That sounds like fun.”

“Yeah. We’re even getting another horse and some more animals and everything. And we’re going to grow food.”

They stepped out of the truck and Rick watched as Michonne took in the dark Victorian style house with old unshuttered windows. In the darkness of the night it must have looked like something out of a horror movie. He fished out his keys as he led the way up the front steps. The front door opened with a loud creak and he quickly flipped on the lights as to not make an already seemingly creepy situation any more uncomfortable.

“You’re just in time for dinner.” He dropped his keys on the table near the door, stepping back so they could enter and he could close the door.

“Am I?” She gave him a small smile. “Well how about I use the phone first? I’d really like to figure out my situation first before diving into what I’m sure is a wonderful meal.”

“Oh right,” he said. He had completely forgotten about the main purpose for her presence in his new home. “This way.” He led her to the wall phone in the room, which was more of a hallway, just off the kitchen. “It’s a bit old fashioned,” he explained. “We haven’t fully settled in yet.”

When he met her eyes, they were soft and filled with a mixture of gratitude and curiosity. “Thank you, Rick.”

His heartbeat quickened at the sound of his name on her lips. It was as if her mouth caressed every syllable of every word she spoke. Instead of a verbal response, he simply nodded and left her to make her call in private and returned to the kitchen where he began making three placements for dinner. He was certain that she would not be able to leave that night and he would need to also get one of the guest bedrooms ready for her.

“What’s for dinner?” Carl asked, pulling out a chair at the table.

Rick was completely useless in the kitchen and often relied on his sister-in-law’s generosity and love for cooking. Their freezer happened to be stocked with her premade meals. “Your aunt’s vegetarian lasagna. I preheated the oven before I left.”

Carl shrugged. “As long as you didn’t make it, I’m cool.”

“I’m getting better,” he defended, as he pulled out the containers to heat the food. “You liked my potatoes.”

Carl averted his gaze before plastering on a wide smile. “Sure. You did a good job Dad.”

“Thanks for sparing my feelings son.”

“Any time.”

As Rick put their dinner in the oven he couldn’t help but listen as Michonne’s clearly irritated voice echoed from the other room.

“Michael, I’ve told you before,” her heard her say. He imagined her brow was furrowed and her free arm crossed in front of her. “Because that’s who you are to me. I knew better than to expect more. I don’t understand how you always manage to ruin things for me no matter how far away I am from you. You’re like a fucking cancer.” She paused no doubt, because the person on the other end was talking over her. “Leave him right where he is. He’s fine with my mother.”

The sound of the phone slamming down echoed through the house and Carl looked up from his handheld game, meeting his father’s eyes.

The house was deathly silent for a few minutes before soft padding of feet alerted them of her approach. They quickly averted their gaze, pretending that he hadn’t been listening to every word she said after she hung up with the towing service, then called a woman named Sasha before finally making a call this person named Michael.

“Bad news all around,” she sighed, pressing her hand to her forehead as she reentered the kitchen. 

“It’s a good thing we have lots of extra room,” Carl piped up, his eyes quickly flitting to his father.

“Thanks.” She smiled warmly at Carl. “I just really needed to get home, though.” It explained why she felt inclined to drive when there clearly was a storm coming.

“Hopefully it will clear up by tomorrow and your car situation can get sorted out. It might be a while for the plows though.” Rick gestured for her to take a seat at one of the placements. “I hope you like lasagna.”

“It smells really good in here, so I’m sure I’ll love it. I’m actually starving.”

“Dinner will be served in…” Carl looked at his watch. “Thirty-two more minutes.”

“Sorry,” Rick smiled apologetically. “It’ll be a little while. We don’t usually eat this late, but we’ve been running errands all day.”

“I’m not complaining,” she said sinking down into one of the chairs. “I’m just glad I’m no longer stranded on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. I really appreciate you stopping and helping me.”

“Glad we could help.” Rick took a seat across from her, his eyes hardly leaving her. He didn’t think he’d ever seen a face quite as beautiful as hers. Her eyes were wide and doe-like and she had beautifully rounded lips that look like they could produce kisses like no other.

“Hey Michonne?” Carl regarded her with curiosity. “What do you do? Are you an actress or something?”

She laughed, her dark eyes twinkling at the suggestion. “I’m actually an artist slash wedding planner slash mother.”

“Cool,” he grinned. “You have kids?”

“Just one,” she answered. “His name is André and he’s four.” Rick quickly glanced down at her hand, feeling inexplicably relieved to see her bare left ring finger. The relief quickly subsided when he realized that there could still be someone even if her hand was ringless.

They conversed about art, the creative culture of Alexandria, Virginia and the weather for some time and before they knew it, the food was ready to leave the oven.

“This is really delicious Rick,” Michonne said, as she took her first bite of her dinner. “You’re a chef too?”

“I wish I could take credit, but this is all my sister-in-law’s doing,” he admitted. “I’m learning though. I’m going to have to if Carl and I plan on surviving here.”

Shortly after dinner, Rick showed Michonne to the downstairs guest bedroom leaving her to her own devices as he accompanied his son upstairs. He figured she might feel safer on the first floor where she was closer to the exit.

"I like her," Carl said simply after he had climbed into his bed. “She’s really cool.”

Rick’s lips turned up in a small smile as he regarded the boy. It had been nice seeing him so interactive with someone outside their immediate close friends and family. They had endured one tragedy after another and after the passing of his mother, Carl had reverted into himself. Then farm came as an unexpected opportunity for them to start over, but it also brought with it isolation.

“Yeah. She seems nice.”

“You know, you don’t have to tuck me in anymore.”

Rick raised a brow at his son. “Getting too old for that?”

Carl shrugged, not meeting his eyes. “Don’t know. Maybe.”

“Alright.” He placed a quick kiss on his forehead. “Whatever you say. Goodnight son.”

Carl let out a loud yawn, his eyes beginning to droop with tiredness. “Night Dad.”

When he returned downstairs, she was standing near the fireplace in their expansive living room calmly taking in the bareness of his new home.

“Came back to murder me now that the kid is finally asleep?”

“Can’t sleep actually. You know, I understood your hesitation,” he said, attempting to make conversation. “You really can’t trust most people these days.”

“True.” Her smile was hypnotizing and he almost felt as if he was under a spell. There was a light that resonated within her that was absolutely captivating. “I admire your helpfulness though. For all you know _I_ could be a killer. Don’t make underestimations Mr. Grimes.”

“I try not to,” he said, walking further into the room. He wanted to be closer to her. “As a cop, I was trained to look for certain things.”

She raised her eyebrow, giving him a onceover slowly circling him. “A cop? You didn’t mention that while you were trying to pick me up. I guess it kind of makes sense though. You seem cop-ish.”

“Sheriff to be exact,” he clarified. “I don’t do that anymore though.”

“I can see that.” She looked pointedly around the room. “You look a little young for retirement though. Unless it was something else. Suspension turned permanent termination? I hope you weren’t abusing your power Sherriff.”

He shook his head, plopping down on the couch with a heavy sigh as he thought about his past two years of bombshells and tragedies. “Sometimes it’s just time to give it all up. Begin again.”

“So, you became a farmer instead.” Her voice sounded incredulous, which was understandable because it seemed clear that he wasn’t completely certain about the whole farmer business. There really wasn’t much he was completely certain about anymore these days.

“It’s a work in progress.” He glanced at the pictureless walls and the living room devoid of anything overtly personal. “We haven’t gotten a chance to decorate yet,” he explained feeling slightly self-conscious. He didn’t know why he was telling her this. “We still have some remodeling to do.”

She met his eyes, giving him that warm smile of hers. “I think it has character.” She slowly paced the room. “There’s a lot of potential here Rick. I’d be happy to come back and offer some decorating expertise if I make it out of here alive.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” He certainly wouldn’t mind seeing her face again.

“That sounds promising for me. Plus, I’m enjoying your company so far so that won’t be too bad.” She strode over to him, taking a seat on the couch beside him. A smile played on her lips as she angled her body towards him. “Now, tell me. Why can't you sleep?" Her wide brown eyes seemed to gaze into his soul. "Still a bit creeped out by your great big new house? This place his huge."

"That, amongst other things," he chuckled feeling surprisingly at ease around her. "I haven't had a decent night's sleep in ages actually."

"What happened?"

He looked at her confused. "You're a seemingly single father in a new house and what I assume to be a new town and you seem a little in over your head."

"Wow. Well someone's observant."

"So I've been told." Her voice was gentle and her eyes were the kindest he's ever seen on a person. "You don't have to tell me if you're not comfortable with that."

“You sure you’re not a psychiatrist?” he joked. But for the first time since it happened, he wanted to talk about his dead ex-wife and his unexpected inheritance of an old farm that was at one point very prosperous. He felt her soft hand wrapping around one of his and was filled with warmth at the simple contact.

“Almost positive,” she grinned. “Although, I’ve heard art can be beneficial for mental and emotional ailments.”

"Well, I’m originally from Georgia. I used to be a sheriff in a small town outside Atlanta. I loved my job and I loved my life up until about two years ago when everything started going south."  He paused staring at the shadows the low light casted on walls. "My marriage fell apart, I got a divorce, then six months ago Carl lost his mother, so it's just the two of us now. On a farm that my father-in-law left for me."

She gave his hand a comforting squeeze and everything seemed to spill out of him. He told her about his struggle to comfort his son and his need to begin again. When the conversation started getting heavy they moved on to conversing about a plethora of general subjects, never getting any more personal, and Rick was surprised to find that they even shared some commonalities. They were also both from Georgia and relatively new to Virginia. As the time passed, it was clear there was an attraction between them and he frequently found himself pulling his eyes away from her beautifully full lips.

“You have extremely terrible taste in music Rick,” she laughed after he explained in detail his love for a particular obscure country band. “It’s unbelievable. It’s so _bad_.”

“You just don’t appreciate the classics. Shame on you.”

He was enjoying her company and she seemed to be enjoying his and the prospect of their conversation ending saddened him. He could listen to her voice all night.

He wanted to listen to her voice all night and perhaps much longer.

She was quiet now, staring into his eyes with her deep brown eyes. The room was silent except for their breathing and the air between them was electrifying and heavy with sexual tension. Her eyes quickly flitted to his lips, but she otherwise remained motionless.

Her soft melodic voice broke the silence. “Shall we call it a night?”

Instead on responding, he found himself leaning forward towards her. Her breathing hitched as he cupped her face with his hand, softly brushing her mahogany cheek with his thumb. Without even thinking their lips met in the dimly lit room and he found himself hovering over her as they kissed slowly and sensually.

She seemed content to let him lead and relaxed back against the couch, as her fingers found his hair running through his dark curls. She let out a soft moan as his hands began to explore her body. His lips moved away from hers, ghosting along her collarbone as his hands slipped under the hem of her sweater. He grabbed her leg wrapping it around his waist and he was sure she could feel his erection through the fabric of their pants as their kiss deepened.

He pushed himself off her with one hand and the other remained under her sweater just below her breast. “Sorry for mauling you like that. I’ve been wanting to kiss you for hours,” he said through heavy breaths. He didn’t want her to feel as though he expected something in return for the kindness he showed. “Don’t –”

“I know.” Her pupils were dilated. “Don’t worry. The attraction is mutual.” She folded her arms around his neck, pulling him in for another kiss.  Her fingers found his hair once again and he started kissing her neck, sucking her skin and inhaling her intoxicating scent.

“I don’t usually do things like this and I’d hate to get caught,” she said breathily as his lips moved lower.

He let out a heavy sigh, brushing his lips against her collarbone as he considered why it wouldn’t be wise to continue. “Neither do I.”

She continued to run her fingers lazily through his hair. Although, they would not be taking things any further than heated kissing on that night, Rick couldn’t help but hope for another day. Another opportunity to lay eyes on the beautiful woman again once they went their separate ways in the morning.

He sat back on his haunches, his eyes never leaving her as she remained on her back her locks splayed around her head like a halo. She looked remarkably angelic in the dim light and he wanted nothing more than to feel her delicately sculpted body against his.

“Maybe we could see each other again after this,” she said sweetly. “You know, when the storm clears up. I’d love to see Rick Grimes again sometime.”

It sounded like a date was in their future.”

“I wouldn’t mind seeing you gain either.” He didn’t miss the suggestiveness of her tone and he tried to discretely adjust himself. “So, now would be when we call it a night.”

Michonne nodded, adjusting her rumpled clothing as she stood up. “Night Rick. See you in the morning?”

“When?”

“When what?”

“When can I see you again?”

“I have an art exhibit next Saturday in Alexandria. Maybe you can come by if you’re free. I’ll give you the address.”

He nodded slowly as he rose from the couch, walking slowly and deliberately to where she stood. His hand found her hip and he pulled her in for another kiss. It was quicker this time, but they were both left catching their breaths. “ _Now_ it’s goodnight.”

A smile played on her lips and she simply nodded before strolling out of the room, heading down the hallway that led to the guest room. Rick shut his eyes trying to get himself in check. That night, as he walked to his own bedroom, the prospect of seeing her again fresh on his mind, something occurred to him. How on earth did she know his last name?


	2. Chapter Two: The Snow Day

**Chapter Two: The Snow Day**

* * *

 

On her first morning on the farm, Rick found a kitchen filled with laughter and mouth-watering aromas. They had lost power sometime during the night and he went out to recheck the backup generator, leaving Carl and Michonne in the kitchen. She wore her locks atop her head in a bun and she was wearing a loose sweater and jeans that hugged her curves.

The night before, during his nightly bouts of sleeplessness she remained on his mind. He pictured her sound asleep in the downstairs guest room without a care in the world. Life, unfortunately, was not like that for him.

“And then he just jumped on the table,” Michonne explained animatedly, as Carl grinned up at her, deeply engrossed in her story. “It was a complete disaster and there were a lot of very important people who were just losing it.”

“Wow, that’s crazy. No wonder I wasn’t allowed to get a pet,” he mused. “Well except now of course. Dad’s more okay with it now that we’re living here and neither of us are allergic. He even said I could have a dog. I think he prefers that instead of the younger sibling I asked for.”

“Is that so?” She raised her brow at his revelation of his unusual request. “Well, dogs are the best pets you could possibly have. I have a little dog myself. His name is Snoopy and he’s like a little child.”

“What kind? Can I meet him?”

“I’m sure we can figure something out.”

“Dad should probably meet him too, so we can get an idea on what kind to get,” he said, twisting his mouth thoughtfully.  “I kind of want a big one.”

Rick remained in the kitchen entryway, watching their easy exchange in amazement. They continued with their conversation, completely unaware of his presence. “Something smells good,” he finally said making himself known.

Michonne whirled away from the stovetop to face him, a radiant smile overtaking her face. “Well hello again. Everything okay out there?”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Power won’t be a problem, but it will definitely be a while before the roads clear. That was some blizzard we had last night. The roadside assistant guy already said it, but it’s clear you won’t be going anywhere soon. This is a pretty secluded area and with how horrible the roads are, it’s just not possible since the storm has blocked the one road out of here and this area is always treated last. So, we have you to ourselves for a little while longer. I know your family must be worried.”

He longed to touch her again or wrap her in his arms. Any form of physical contact would satisfy him.

“I called my mother while you were out and let her know I’m still safe since she’s the one watching my son at the moment.” There was a slight annoyance in her tone. She grabbed a plate, loading some eggs onto it, before turning back to him. “She freaked out when I told her I was in a strange man’s house, by the way.”

“Did you tell her there’ no need to worry about the strange man?”

“Time will tell,” she hummed, shooting him a playful wink. “I hope you’re hungry. That shoveling and cold whether must have worked up an appetite.”

“Michonne made homemade waffles Dad,” Carl said in an almost disapproving tone as if to say, ‘you need to do better Dad’.

“Hey, I’m pretty good with breakfast,” he defended meeting Michonne’s eyes. “I make amazing pancakes. You said so yourself.”

“He does,” Carl allowed. “His isn’t as lumpy as Mom’s used to be, I guess. I’ve never had pancakes better than my Dad’s. Maybe you can come over for breakfast sometime Michonne. You know, after you leave.”

Rick attempted to keep a neutral expression, but his son surprised him. First with the casual mention of his mother that never failed to surprise Rick and then with the immediate liking he had taken to the beguiling woman who he seemed determined to bring back to their home once she left them. Like Rick, he wanted nothing more than to see her again once the roads were clear and she could freely leave.

“That sounds like a very tempting offer.”

“I have a little food critic on my hands. The new Gordon Ramsay,” Rick groaned. “Thanks for this,” he said gratefully to Michonne, not sure if he was thanking her for breakfast, being kind to his son or just her general company. It had been a while since he interacted with an adult other than his sister-in-law.

She waved him off. “It’s the least I can do for my rescuers.”

“How did you even do this?” He pointed to the waffle on his plate. “Get it like that. I’ve only had the pre-packaged ones.”

She regarded him with amusement, pressing her lips together as if she were trying not to laugh. “You have a waffle iron, Rick.”

“I do?”

“Yes, you do.” She brought another plate to the table, patting his shoulder as she leaned next to him to place it down. “A very good one at that. You should get started on being the best at making waffles too.”

“Must have already been here when we moved in.”

“That’s why we need to unpack everything,” Carl said, through a mouthful of food. “I bet there’s a lot of cool stuff in the basement. If only you’d let me go down.”

“What happened to your intense fear of spiders?”

“What happened to that being a phase?”

Michonne laughed at the father-son banter. “Is this what your breakfast table is usually like?”

“That and more,” Rick answered. “And it doesn’t just stop at the table. This is us all the time.”

There was a lighter than usual atmosphere in the house as they ate their breakfast together. As he watched her interactions with Carl, he couldn’t help the images of her always being present at the breakfast table that clouded his mind. He snapped out of thoughts when he heard a throat clearing. He looked up to find Michonne regarding him curiously and he knew how strange he must have looked staring at her, completely oblivious and unresponsive to the question apparently posed.

“Sorry?”

“Can we go outside after breakfast?” Carl repeated.

“Sure, you can get your coat and snow stuff on when you’re done eating. I have to finish shoveling us out anyway. A thick blanket of snow covered the grounds. I barely made it out the front door.”

“Snowball fight?” Michonne grinned, raising an eyebrow at Carl.

He eagerly returned her grin. “Snowball fight.”

When they stepped outside after breakfast, the sky was gray and it was still very windy, but the snowfall had at least subsided. He could feel the wind cutting through his layers of clothing and he glanced over to Michonne and wondered if she was warm enough. He didn’t know much about women’s fashion but her coat seemed to be designed more for style than for warmth.

Rick trudged toward the tool shed, pointing out a nice flat area where they could stay while he shoveled.

He watched as they started to set up “forts” behind mounds of snow and began working at constructing their perfect snowballs. It was clear from Michonne’s interactions that she was a mother and a good one at that. The snowball fight ended up being short lived and they ended up working on a very deformed looking snowman instead.

He would catch her watching him every now and again and she would quickly flit her eyes away, pretending to look at something else. He wondered if she was thinking about last night. He certainly was.

It was almost torturous to watch her, as she bent over to scoop up snow, her shapely figure on full display in her tight jeans. He had to continue his work in a semi-distracted manner.

After he was satisfied with his shoveling work, he moved on to the snow plow to get a path properly cleared for them. Once he was finished, he grabbed his shovel, heading toward the barn to tend to the animals he had procured so far. As he walked a flash of white zoomed past his face and he spun around only for another to connect with his chest and another with his shoulder.

Laughter erupted from Michonne and Carl when they saw his stunned face. “We got you Dad!” Carl abandoned his snowman, jogging towards where he stood, brushing the snow from his jacket and Michonne followed slowly after him, her arms wrapped around herself.

“Are you going to feed Buttons and milk the cows now?” Carl was practically bouncing with excitement, enjoying having someone to share the inner workings of their new life with. Carl’s immediate taking to their new life pleased Rick quite a bit. He felt guilty at times for bringing the boy so far away from all he knew and he knew he struggled to make new friends. However, the one constant was his love for farm life.

“Yeah,” he answered. “You wanna come along? You two done being snowbirds? I didn’t take you for an avid snowman builder.”

“I have to be. My son André absolutely loves the snow,” she smiled, as she thought about the boy. “He’s probably begging to go outside right now and driving my parents up a wall.” She pointed to the front porch. “See those icicles over the front porch?” Rick and Carl looked at the icicles hanging from the rooftop. “Every time we visit my parents, he begs for us to lift him up so he can break a piece off for its magical powers. It’s the best part of winter.”

She noticeably shattered her teeth and wrapped her arms, even tighter around herself, pulling her brown coat closer to her body.  “It’s also freezing out here. I don’t know where I got the bright idea to not to grab a proper coat when I left to go on this girl’s trip.”

“Girl’s trip?” He realized that he had no idea where she was coming from when he found her.

“That’s where I was coming from when you met me. A spa retreat cut short because of an idiotic misunderstanding.”

Rick wanted to know more, but it probably wasn’t something she would want to discuss in front of Carl. It seemed like a somewhat heavy subject.

“I keep an extra coat in the barn.” He shrugged out of his jacket, holding it out to her. “Take this.” He was much more layered than her and they weren’t far from the barn.

“You don’t have to do that Rick,” she said, beginning to shake her head. “I’m fine. Really. It’s just a little windy is all.”

“It’s only gonna get colder and there’s a lot to do out here.”

She gave him a soft smile, taking the coat from him. “Thanks.”

Once they were in the barn she watched in fascination as he mucked out the stalls and supplied the animals with fresh hay and feed.  Then he and Carl demonstrated how to groom the horse. It was obvious that she was a little out of her element and had probably never been in close proximity to cattle or ridden a horse outside of children’s birthday parties, but she took it all in stride.

“This farming business is nothing to take lightly,” she commented as she brushed Button’s mane. “And you’re getting _more_ animals? You’re planning to do this all yourself? It seems like a lot for one person.”

He nodded. “Expanding is the next logical step. I already have one part time farm hand and I’m looking into hiring another later down the line. One works for now.”

“This is kind of therapeutic,” she said, still brushing the horse’s crest. “I might have to visit again.”

“Have you ever ridden?” He would have loved to teach her.

“I have,” Michonne said with a small nod. “My parents used to vacation at this co…this place where they had horses and the like, so I learned to ride. It was also a very common activity a kid’s birthday parties when I was growing up.”

“What do you want me to do next Cowboy? I’m an eager student at the moment, so take it while it lasts.”

Rick glanced across the large barn at the cow stables. A mischievous smile spread across his face as he tried to imagine her response to what he would say next. “Have you ever milked a cow?”

Her smile turned into a slight grimace and she took a nervous step back. “No, and maybe I should just watch for now.”

Rick threw his head, back laughing at her expression and soon she and Carl joined in. “Wee it’s better than mucking out the stalls. I’ll tell you that. Smells a lot better.”

“It’s easy Michonne,” Carl said, pulling her in the opposite direction, towards where they kept the cattle. “I’ll show you.” She watched carefully as he slowly approached the cow.

“You have to go up to them slowly like this,” Carl said in a low voice as he patted the side of the cow. “Then we have to clean them with warm water.”

She watched as he washed the cow teats with warm water before demonstrating how to dry them off. He then demonstrated how the “strip” the teat and placed a bucket underneath to show her how to milk by hand. In the end, she managed to milk one of the cows on her own and did a very adorable victory dance after her accomplishment.

After leaving the barn, they spent the rest of the day indoors, playing some dusty board games that Rick didn’t even know was in the house. They were remnants of the house’s previous inhabitants. Michonne insisted that they had to play, as it was the ultimate snow day activity. He smiled, thinking of how long it had been since he was able to just be carefree as Michonne seemed to be. Little did he know; her carefree attitude would eventually extend to him and his developing household.

In the short hours he spent getting to know her, she revealed herself to be funny, light-hearted and had a unique perspective of life. She wasn’t afraid to have fun or get in touch with her inner child. She wasn’t someone who led a normal life and she lived just as she wanted, doing what made her happy. He also noticed that she spoke about her son often and the most arbitrary things reminded her of her little André.

As she sat tailor-style on the living room floor moving her game piece across the board, he couldn’t help but stare longingly at her. They sat in the room where just hours before, with his body hovering over hers as they kissed. She had confirmed that the attraction between them was a shared one and he couldn’t help but wonder what that would mean going forward.

Rick could certainly picture her, this woman he knew hardly anything about, as a permanent part of his home.

Her interactions with him, gave nothing away. He would catch her staring, but other than that it was as if the kiss never happened.

“Pay up,” she said, holding out her hand, effectively breaking him out of his thoughts. “You owe me my two hundred dollars. I just passed ‘Go’.”

“Stop daydreaming Dad,” Carl laughed, waving a few fake bills in front of his father’s face. “He always does this and never manages to finish any games or movies. He’s gonna start snoring soon Michonne.”

“I’m not,” he defended weakly. “I’m just trying to think of a sure way to beat you. I’m convinced Michonne is cheating.”

She playfully rolled her eyes. “You can’t cheat at monopoly Rick. I’m obviously just a master at this game. If anybody were to cheat it’d be you since you’re the banker.”

He narrowed his eyes in jest. “I’m keeping an eye on you.”

“Good,” she smiled. “Learn from the master.”

* * *

 

It was another day before the snowfall had subsided enough for snow crews to finally begin treating the roads in their area. They never found themselves in another heated encounter as they did on her first night on the farm. Things remained simply friendly between them and he was beginning to believe that she viewed what happened between them a lot differently than he did.

“My car is apparently completely buried in snow,” Michonne said, after hanging up with roadside assistance. “They’ve got it though.”

Rick turned away from the living room window to face her. “I guess this means you’re free to go home.”

“Why are you saying that like it’s a bad thing?” she laughed. “This isn’t going to turn into a hostage situation, is it? My family and the roadside assistance guy know where I am, Rick. I won’t work.”

Rick shook his head, smiling at her joke. “I would be a smarter abductor than that.”

 “Thanks again for everything,” she said, taking a step toward where he stood. “For stopping, for letting me stay, for teaching me how to milk a cow, for not straight up murdering me. Thanks for it all, Rick.”

“Any time.”

“So…will I be seeing you next week?” She looked up at him with her wide doe eyes, that flitted to his lips before meeting his own eyes. “Alexandria? Next Saturday?”

“I’ll definitely be there.”

Michonne took another step toward him, taking his hand in hers and slipping a piece of paper into it. He wrapped his hand around the piece of paper, but didn’t look at it. His eyes remained on hers. “The address.”

 “Are you leaving now?” Carl’s voice broke them out of their staring contest.

She stepped away from him, looking to Carl who stood at the bottom of the staircase with his arms crossed. “When my ride gets here in about twenty minutes or so.” She glanced back at Rick. “I was just telling your Dad how glad I am that I got to meet the two of you. Thank you for your hospitality Carl. It’s been a fun two days.”

“It was fun for me too,” he said. “Will you come back sometime?”

“I’m sure I’ll be seeing the two of you again.”

After she left, he berated himself for not asking for her phone number. He stared at the piece of paper with the name and address of an art gallery in Alexandria written in her neat handwriting. This was how he would see her again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the amazing responses to the first chapter. I’m so happy that so many of you like this story and I can’t wait to write more for your enjoyment. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. It was a short one, but there’s more goodies to come.


	3. The Exhibition

When he saw her again, she was standing in the center of an Alexandria art gallery with her head tipped back in laughter as a blonde woman and an older black gentleman with gray dreadlocks. Rick remained on the far side of the room, quietly observing her and feeling a little out of place. It was one of the main reasons why he decided to show up so close to the exhibition ending time.

As if she could sense his presence, her bright eyes drifted away from the man and the blonde and landed on him. A warm breathtaking smile overtook her face and she gestured for him to come over causing the woman and the man to look in his direction as well.

In the time since she left his home, she remained on his mind.

"Hey Rick! So good to see you." She leaned in and wrapped her arms around him in a friendly hug when he approached her, before quickly kissing him on the cheek. "This is the man I've been telling you about. Rick, this is my friend Andrea and my life mentor Ezekiel. He owns this art gallery and he has given me so much inspiration and encouragement so far."

"So, you're Michonne's midnight savior." Andrea eyed him with curiosity. "Thanks for taking care of my friend."

"I don't know what she was thinking, trying to drive home in a snow storm like that," Ezekiel said in an almost paternal tone. "She gave us a real scare."

They continued with light conversation for some time, until Andrea decided that there was someone she absolutely _had_ to say hello to and Ezekiel needed to be there to meet them as well. She didn't seem to be one for subtlety.

"So, you came." She was staring up at him with those dark penetrating orbs of hers.

"I said I would."

"And you're a man of your word." She said it as if it was a known fact.

He stuck his hand in his pocket, shifting somewhat uncomfortably as he glanced around the bright room. "This is all you?" he asked referring to the paintings and other works of art.

She nodded. "Everything in this section of the gallery, yes."

"You're really talented. These are beautiful." _Like you,_ he wanted to say.

"Michonne!" A woman with a short Afro approached them, a bright smile on her face. "You'll never guess who I just saw looking at one of your pieces. This is such –" She took notice of Rick standing next to Michonne, realizing that she had just interrupted a conversation. "Hello."

"Sasha, this is Rick. Rick, this is my cousin Sasha."

"Rick from the snow storm?"

He found himself feeling oddly pleased that his name had come up with so many people in Michonne's life. Surely it was a little more than just being thankful for the kindness of a stranger.

"The very one," Her lips, dark red with lipstick, curved into a demure smile. "You said who was here now?"

"Deanna Monroe." The name was familiar to Rick and the way Sasha said it made it sound as if it were a person of great prestige. "Maybe she heard about you through Aunty. You should go over and say hello."

"You're right, I definitely should." She gave Rick an apologetic smile. "So, Rick have a look around. We'll catch up after okay?"

"Oh sure," he waved her off. "I really wanted to take a closer look at some of these."

After she made her way toward an older professional woman, Rick took the opportunity to properly observe the pieces. He didn't know much about art, but he could see the talent and vision in the landscapes, objects and faces she painted. Occasionally, his eyes would search the room for her and would almost always connect with their target on the first try.

It was clear she knew how to work a room. She smiled a lot, spoke with her hands and got a few laughs as she caught up with old friends and acquaintances and discussed her pieces.

One piece that really stood out to him, was a vibrant painting of what appeared to be a young boy with his hands extended in the air. Only the back of the child was visible as he faced the other direction. He never imagined a painting with snow could be so colorful. It was filled with deep and light blues, greens and yellows.

Rick glanced down at the description, noting that the piece was named 'Snow Day.' He surmised that the child in question must have been her son Andre.

"This is my favorite one. I think it's the best thing I've ever painted." She stood next to him, appraising the portrait of the boy.

"I'm sure I've only seen a select few of your work, but this might be my favorite too."

"Something else we have in common," Michonne smiled, glancing behind herself. "We're closing up soon."

"You have to go," he guessed, glancing over at her. She was now wearing her coat, which meant she was leaving soon. "I'm sure your friends would want to take you out or something. I should head back."

Michonne shook her head. "This isn't my first art showing and it's certainly not the last. We had dinner beforehand. I'm actually just going to head home now. It's been a long day."

He nodded in understanding. "I'll walk you to your car."

"I actually took a taxi here," she stated, absently playing with the belt on her coat. "My car has been acting up since that snow storm. I wouldn't mind a ride though. I don't live too far from here. It's only like ten minutes away."

"Okay," he agreed, pleased at the prospect of spending more time with her.

"I mean, you don't have to…"

"I'd love to give you a ride." Somehow as the words left his lips, they came out sounding like an innuendo and images of her on his living room couch wrapped in his arms, filled his mind.

"Well lead the way to your carriage cowboy," she hooked her hand with his as they started toward the door. His eyes scanned the gallery which was almost empty, save for Ezekiel and two other women. The gray-haired man waved absently at them as they left.

"I'm loving the denim on denim by the way," she said, lightly brushing his color as the stepped out into the cool night. "Most people can't pull it off, but it looks good. Plus, it makes your eyes pop."

"Well it's a good thing you like it because this is probably as fashionable as I get these days," Rick laughed.

"I like it a lot."

Then something occurred to him. He had been meaning to ask ever since he left her downstairs on the night they first shared a kiss. "How did you know my last name by the way? You said it back at the house."

Michonne pressed her lips together, her eyes filled with mirth. "I might have snooped. Just a little." She held her index finger and thumb together. "I needed to know who I was dealing with and the stack was just lying by the telephone so I took a quick peak. I'm surprised it took you so long to notice. Weren't you a detective or something?"

"Sheriff."

"Sheriff Grimes." The words rolled from her lips like wine. "Turned Farmer Grimes."

"You should visit again sometime," Rick suggested, hoping he didn't sound at all desperate. "It's gonna look so different with spring right around the corner."

"I think I will," she mused. "I'd love to see Buttons the horse again. Carl too. Where is he tonight by the way?"

"He's at a sleepover," he sighed. "I'm just happy he's making friends."

"I'm happy to hear that too. He's a wonderful child." Her walking slowed to a stop and she turned to face him. "How far are you parked?"

Rick pointed to his parked truck a few paces away. On their drive to her apartment, they chatted about her work, the city and the weather. Once he parked outside her building she opened her satchel-like side bag, digging inside until she retrieved a pen and a piece of paper, quickly scribbling on it before handing it to him. "My number."

"Every time you leave me, I get something?"

"Well we don't have to part ways yet." She grinned up at him as she closed her bag. "The night's still young. Would you like to come up?"

"For someone who was afraid that I might be a murderous psychopath, you sure are trusting now."

"Is that so?" she laughed. "Well, I'll have you know that I'm an excellent judge of character, Rick. I hope you are too."

He found himself following her into her apartment building without too much further objection. He wasn't going to let an opportunity of spending more time with her pass him by. Her apartment truly reflected what he imagined the home of an artist to be. Just by looking around the apartment, he could tell Michonne, like her name, was an unconventional woman. It was filled with dark and bright colors; the walls were adorned with patterned tapestry, there was a multitude of plants, drawers and bookshelves and her artwork had a heavy presence.

She kicked off her shoes as she entered and he did the same. A little ball of black fur dashed from somewhere around the corner and began bouncing at their feet. "Snoopy!"

Michonne bent over and scooped up the small furry dog into her arms, patting him as he panted happily.

"So, this is your dog." He reached over to pet him. "Carl has been begging for a house pet for the longest time. A dog wouldn't be so bad considering."

"As I've told him, they're the best." She looked back at him giving him a small wink. "Would you like something to drink? I'm going to have a glass of wine." Her skirt, colored with oranges and yellows, wafted behind her as she walked barefooted across the floor, covered in patterned rugs, towards the kitchen.

"This is nice," he commented, looking around the softly lit room. "I'm fine by the way. I'm driving."

She smiled knowingly. "Andrea calls this aesthetic bohemian chic. I call it comfortable and relaxing. It's home."

Rick took a seat on the low couch admiring a small nearby statue with water flowing from it. "I agree with you on that one."

"Most of the furniture here are old things I remodeled and added my personal touch to. Sentimental value and all that."

"It's very nice. You have a talent. I can barely match my clothes." He looked around the quiet apartment as she continued rummaging through the kitchen. "Where is your son tonight?"

"With his father," she answered. "Today is Smithsonian museum day, so they went to new African-American history and culture in DC. I try to take him to one museum every Saturday. You and Carl should join us sometime. Want some coffee?"

"That would be great." He stood up from the couch, slowly circling around the apartment, admiring her designs. "And Carl and I might take you up on that offer."

"He's loves it." A bright smile spread across her face. "His favorite is the air and space museum though. I think I might have a little scientist on my hands."

"He's four, right?"

"Yep. Four going on forty. I think he just like the pretty displays. I mean he practically lives in a museum of my childhood and spends way too much time in art galleries."

"Not a bad place to live and spend time in from what I see. They grow up so fast though. I get a little sad every time Carl gets older or even grows a little."

"I don't miss the incessant crying, but I do miss having little infant André in my arms." She stepped out of the kitchen with a tray with two mugs and a platter in the center. "I want to show you something, Rick."

He turned to her, his brow furrowed. Her bright eyes, glimmered in the low light, but her expression gave nothing away. "O...kay. Is that a good or a bad thing?"

Michonne tilted her head toward a glass door, covered in colorful knickknacks that probably led to a patio. "Open it please. Grab your shoes and open it."

"Demanding, aren't we?" He laughed, walking toward the door. "This isn't part of your master plan to kidnap me and harvest my organs, is it? I've gotta be honest, you're making me suspicious. Is this your kill room or something," he joked as he pushed the door open.

What he saw in front of him left him even more awestruck than the inside of her apartment. He stepped out onto the sizeable enclosed balcony. "Is this where you paint?" he asked noticing an easel.

It was a little chilly, but he was still wearing his coat. He watched as she walked and placed the tray down on a small table in front of a low sitting couch. "Sometimes. I've converted the loft, which was supposed to be like a small home office, into my little studio, I paint there and sometimes out here as well."

"Is this where we're sitting."

"Space heaters and a fire pit," she said, as she whirled around making her preparations. "This is worth it, trust me. I hate the idea of not being able to enjoy my patio because of something insignificant as the cold." She pointed to the mesh covering that covered the openings on the balcony. "I added the mesh covering so it doesn't get too messy or unbearable cold during the winter. It's a good thing that's almost over."

"You are…" He shook his head. "You are one of kind Michonne."

"I'll take that as a compliment." She scurried behind a wooden and pulled out a portable fire pit. "We're technically not allowed to have fire pits on our patio, but who's gonna know? It's fun to take risks every once in a while. Plus, I can always play dumb if they catch me."

She looked up at him with wide eyes, placing a hand against her chest as she demonstrated her acting skills. "I can't have one? I don't remember seeing that in the official rules. I'm so sorry," she dramatized, with a laugh.

"You're a rebel too?" he teased. "Good to know."

"Not a very good one though. I'm big on respecting rules but that one is just not going to work for me. What's the point of a patio in Virginia is you can't have a fire pit?" Michonne questioned, as she lit the fire with a handheld butane lighter. "In this case, rules can be thrown out the window."

"Don't forget I was a sheriff."

" _Was_ is the key word here. Besides, I'm sure we can keep this between the two of us. Plus you're now an accessory," she winked. "Come on." She rose to her feet, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the couch. "Sit. Sit."

She handed him a mug. "Your coffee." She picked up the other. "My tea. I didn't want to drink alone."

"It's actually really nice out here."

"It's good to enjoy the little this in life Rick," she said in a low voice. "That's one of the most important things I've been learning so far and it seems to me that you are learning the same. I think you moved all the way out to the middle of nowhere because you were searching for something."

"Well I kind of lived in the middle of nowhere when I was in Georgia too. I came from a _really_ small town."

"What you have now is a different kind of 'middle of nowhere', isn't it? Did you live somewhere like that in Georgia?"

"Are you positive you're not a psychiatrist?" he asked, half joking. "It's startin' to feel like you brought me here to psychoanalyze me. Now I'm suspicious again. It's those detective senses."

"I brought you here to share one of my favorite places with you. You shared so much with me and I wanted to do the same with you," Michonne said simply. "Plus, I really enjoy the company. Regardless of if you were here or not, I'd be sitting out here sipping tea and enjoying life. This is how I spend my evenings. Clearing up after it snows is a bitch though, because it leaks when it melts against the covering."

"I can imagine. Does it have to be mesh?"

"Fresh air." She grabbed a nearby blanket spreading it across their lap. "Are you cold?" Her foot brushed against his thigh as she pulled her knees to her chest. "I am."

Cold was the last thing Rick was feeling despite where they were sitting. "Fine."

"Growing up, I hated the cold," she said, staring ahead at nothing in particular. "I always said I'd move someplace warm once I grew up and left my parents' house and I'd never come back to this part of the country. Now, here I am. I've learned to love it."

"You grew up around here?" His brow furrowed as he thought back to their conversation on the first night. "I thought you said you were from further south and new to Virginia."

A smile spread across Michonne's face at his recollection. "Yes, I _am_ originally from further south and I _am_ new to Virginia. I spent half my childhood in Georgia before moving to Bethesda with my family. That's where I spent years being tortured by the cold. Then I moved away for college, met a guy, started to semi-settle down, but then I moved back to the northeast. Virginia this time. My parents still live in Bethesda."

"Interesting."

"We're actually sitting here playing twenty questions. At least now we can say we know each other a lot better."

"You still have an advantage. You know my last name and I don't even know yours. The gallery flyers only listed you as Michonne."

She reached for her mug taking a small sip. "You haven't been asking the right questions then. Are you sure you were a cop? I'll give you a freebie though. The answer to that question is, I'm like Cher. One name only." She scooted closer to him, placing the mug down on the small table in a swift movement as she angled her body toward him. "What else do you want to know Rick?"

Rick stared into her dark shimmering eyes, that always seemed to entice him. He couldn't help but wonder where this would all lead him. What will this woman be to him? Who was she now?

He leaned closer to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her against his side. She settled next to him, not at all bothered by their close proximity. It felt natural. She peered up at him, under her dark lashes, her eyes moving from his eyes to his lips. She almost seemed bashful, which was a complete contradiction to her earlier verbal banter.

He reached out, cupping his hand against her cheek. "If I can kiss you." He drew her face to his as a small smile of affirmation played on her lips. She closed her eyes as their lips met in a soft kiss that sent fire coursing through his body.

There was passion there and years later he would find, much to his pleasure, that the passion would remain and even grow.

The kiss grew deeper and soon, Rick found himself pulling Michonne into his lap where she straddled his thighs as his hands explored her fully clothed body. He loved the way her body felt against his. She felt right.

"Glad to know the attraction is still there," she breathed, pulling away from the kiss.

"I would have thought differently with how platonic you kept everything." His hand slipped under the back of her shirt, to rest against her bare lower back.

Her eyes flitted away from his. "I don't really do things like that. I mean, you were a stranger and I barely knew you. I still barely know you. I just wanted to play things…safe. Plus, I didn't want to be to forward or anything and make things awkward."

"I guess great minds really do think alike." Rick gave her a light squeeze. "Well since we _still_ technically barely know each other, I think we really should fix that."

Michonne grinned, tilting her head to the side as if to properly observe him. "How do you propose we do that?"

He kissed her again. "I'll think of something, but for now tell me more. How long have you been an artist? Why here?"

She slid off his lap, to sit sideways across the couch and kept her legs in his lap. "You better get comfortable Sherriff."

They spent the rest of their evening talking and flirting and it was after one in the morning when he finally bid her goodnight. He hated that he had to leave, but the drive would take some time and he didn't want to be too tired on the road.

She followed him to the door, her arms wrapped around herself for warmth. The little black ball of fur made its reappearance then, sitting next to her feet and wagging his tail happily.

"You free next Friday?" he asked from the doorway as he adjusted his coat.

"Yeah," she answered, scooping up the little dog into her arms. "My schedule is mostly free for the next few weeks actually. Why? Are you asking me out Rick?"

"Yes," he said simply. He reached out, lifted her chin, drawing he face to his. He placed another kiss on her soft lips. "Yes I am. Goodnight Michonne."

"Night," she whispered as he rested his forehead against hers. "Friday?"

"Friday. For now." He let go of her, stepping out of the apartment to make his way down the hallway.

"Hey Rick?" she called, as he hit the button for the elevator. She was still standing in her apartment doorway, with the small dog in her arms, watching him and she looked absolutely radiant.

"Yeah?"

"It's Westbrook."

Her voice was in his head during the entire ride home. He pictured her smile, her laugh, her body pressed against his. She occupied every part of his mind and later that night he was left thinking, ' _Where have I heard that name before?'_


	4. The Play Date

Rick did not see her that Friday. After three days of phone conversations, she called him, somewhat frantically and apologized profusely for not being able to make their date. There was an emergency and she would be needed elsewhere that Friday. She insisted that they meet up again on the following Saturday or Sunday, depending on how the emergency was resloved.

“What are you over there thinking about?” his sister-in-law asked, from her place at the kitchen counter.

Rick glanced up from his phone, rubbing his hand across his face. “It’s nothing.” He strolled over to the counter, pouring himself another cup of coffee. “I’m gonna go work on that door in the barn. You okay here?”

“Fine,” she answered, staring at him as if she was waiting for a sign of bizarre behavior. “How are things going by the way? Still settling in?”

“Yeah, Carl made a few friends from his new school. I think he’s starting to like it here,” he answered simply.

“And you?”

He shrugged, curious about her line of questioning. “Fine, Carol.”

“Remember, if this don’t work, Maryland’s not too far away. Nobody’s gonna judge you if you don’t finish whatever this is that you’re trying to do. I don’t know why you decided to move all the way up here. Even I’m thinking about moving back to Georgia. I just need to convince that husband of mine.” She pulled out a mixing bowl, preparing to make one of her delicious concoctions. “And you don’t even have to do all this. You’ll get what he left you either way.”

Carol and Lori shared no biological relation. Lori’s parents had adopted her during her early teens, when she had a troubled life at home, and she grew to be a fiercely protective older sister to Lori.

“Hey aunty Carol,” Carl said as he shot through the kitchen, almost knocking over a chair in his haste.

“Look at you,” she said, ruffling his hair. “I swear you get taller every time I see you. Sophia’s that way too.”

“Apparently, I’m a growing boy,” he shrugged, turning his attention to his father. “When is Michonne gonna come over?”

Rick, rubbed the back of his neck, hyperaware of how Carol’s eyes followed him, observing him carefully. “Ah, no. Not today. I forgot to tell you yesterday, but we have a change of plans. How about you grab a bite and get your boots on and we can work on that door in the barn together.”

“Who’s Mich – what was that?” Her eyes darted between Carl and Rick.

“A friend of mine.” Rick certainly did not want to have this conversation with Carol at the moment. They always had a strange relationship even before what happened with Lori. During his turbulent relationship with his ex-wife, her sister, he always had the feeling that she was not particularly fond of him, which was why her not taking sides in the Lori incident surprised him. Either way, Lori was still her sister and he knew, despite her disapproval of Lori’s actions, she held a strong position when it came to how he treated Lori. In fact, he was convinced that the only reason she still visited was to make sure her nephew was receiving what she deemed as proper care.

“So, she’s been round here a lot?” She kept her tone light as she smiled over at Carl.

Rick took a sip of his coffee fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “She’s been here once. It’s pretty new, our…friendship.”

“We met her on the road during the snowstorm,” Carl volunteered, walking over to the cupboard to grab a bowl for his cereal. “She’s really nice.”

“On the road,” she repeated, regarding Rick with curious eyes. Her expression remained neutral and he wondered what she was thinking. “That’s so…nice.”

“Yeah, her car was broken down so we helped. She stayed with us for two days. She’s so cool.” He opened the pantry door in search of his cereal. “Dad I’m almost out of Honey Bunches of Oats.”

“We’ll pick some up in town later.” He hastily gulped the rest of his coffee in his desperation to get out of the house.

“I’ll be out of your hair soon Rick.” She said it as if she could read his mind. He immediately felt guilty, wondering if his demeanor was cold. “I’ll be in town for a while. I’m staying over with Nancy tonight. She hates being in that big ‘ol house by herself and I hate making that long drive so late. Her kids are away and her husband is pulling a double. Some senator or congress person had a heart attack a few days ago or something. I don’t know.”

“Tell her I said hello.” He placed his mug in the sink and quickly made his way out of the kitchen. “I’ll be outside.”

Rick spent some time working on the barn door before finally moving on to check that everything was secured with the stables. As he gathered more tools from his toolbox, he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. He was happy to see the name flashing on the screen. “Hello?”

_“Hey Rick.”_

“Michonne.” He loved the sound of her voice and it was even better over the phone. “Hey.”

“Yeah,” she sighed heavily. “Sorry about blowing you off today. Family emergency.”

“Everything alright?”

_“It will be. Things are much better now,”_ She answered. “ _How about you? How are you spending this lovely Friday afternoon?”_

“I’m handyman for the day. I’m fixing up a few things in the barn.”

_“Wow.”_ She let out a melodic laugh. “ _That sounds a little sexy.”_

“Well it’s what I do,” he responded. “And what are you up to. We have to make up for today.”

“ _Well I’m with my family in Bethesda at the moment, but I’ll be back home tomorrow,”_ she started. _“How about you come over? Bring Carl. I’m sure he’d love to meet Snoopy. Unless you had other plans, of course,”_ she quickly clarified. “ _I don’t want this to come across as me – ”_

“We’ll be there Michonne.”

_“Great. Lunch time then?”_

“Sounds good.” He closed the tool box, leaning back against the wall. “I’m going to have to show off my breakfast making skills some other time then.”

_“Another time,”_ she laughed. _“Looking forward to it though. Just bring yourself and Carl tomorrow.”_

“See you.”

_“Bye.”_

Rick returned to his work in higher spirits and by the time he was finished with his daily farm work, he was exhausted. He couldn’t imagine what things would be like once they were fully into spring. He reentered the house collapsing on the living room couch. He wasn’t sure how long he dozed off for before he was awoken by Carl’s voice.

“Dad?” His voice sounded so small, almost fearful.

Rick’s eyes blinked open. “Yeah son?” he said groggily sitting up from the couch.

Carl let out a visible sigh. “Oh I…I thought…nothing.”

“What’s up?”

“Aunt Carol made lunch. I already had some. She’s leaving soon, so she wanted to know if she should fix you a plate.”

He shook his head, waving his hand. “I can get it when I’m ready.” He regarded his son carefully. “You never joined me in the barn.”

Carl shrugged, sitting down next to his father. “I decided to keep aunty company instead.” He shot a cheesy grin at his father. “Missed me?”

“Always.” He ruffled the boy’s hair. “That was thoughtful of you though.”

“Plus, I can help out tomorrow.”

“No, we’re getting out of here tomorrow. We’ll have a day out.”

“Where are we going?”

Rick made the motion of locking his mouth and throwing away the key. “It’s a surprise.”

Carl rolled his eyes standing from the couch. “Sure dad. You’ve never been able to keep surprises a secret anyway.”

**~TFW~**

On their way to Michonne’s apartment the next afternoon, Carl was still determined to find out where they were going before they actually arrived. He would shoot out guesses at Rick and when informed that he was wrong, he would return to his game, pretending not to be bothered by not knowing.

“Come on Dad, just tell me. Where are we going?” Carl asked, looking up from his game to stare out the window.

“You’ll see.”

“Washington DC?”

“No. You’ll see.”

“Just tell me. I’ll still act surprised when we get there if that’s what you want.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Rick teased.

“Are we going to visit my aunt and uncle?”

“Nope.”

When he pulled into the parking lot in front of Michonne’s building Carl regarded his surroundings with curiosity. “Where are we? Are we visiting somebody? And why do we need ice?”

Rick opened his door, stepping out of the truck. “You wanna see or not?” Carl quickly scurried out after him, anxious to know what his father was keeping from him.

“Alright, let’s see.”

On their way up to Michonne’s floor, Carl continued to throw out guesses as to where they were headed, but he never came close. He followed his father down the spacious hallway and watched, almost bouncing on his feet, as he knocked and waited.

When the door swung open, the sight before him was just as radiant as he remembered. “You made it!” As they entered her apartment, she gave Rick a quick hug before exchanging one with Carl. “Good to see you again Carl.”

“This looks really cool,” Carl said, looking around the room.

A little boy resembling Michonne stood up from his place on the living room floor where he seemed to have been busy with toys. “Hi,” he waved at the new house guests.

“Hello,” Rick waved back. “Your son?”

“Yeah. André’s dad had a thing so he’s spending Saturday with me.” She explained to Rick as she waved the boy over. “André come meet my friend and his son Carl.”

“I’m André! I’m four years old.” He held up four fingers with a proud grin.

Michonne smiled indulgently at him, strolling into the kitchen. “Thanks for joining me and André for lunch today. I hope you’re hungry.”

“Starving,” Carl sighed, plopping down on the couch next to André.

“You act like I don’t feed you.”

“Well you haven’t fed me since breakfast. I’m a growing boy.”

Rick shook his head, following Michonne into the kitchen where they would be partially out of sight from the children who were now chatting. Her back was to him as she removed something from the oven. He placed the bag of ice, she requested he pick up on the counter and stood back, watching her. “How are you?”

She placed the dish on the counter, turning to face him a demure smile on her lips. “Good. You?”

“Well,” he took a step toward her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her towards him and out of view from the children. “I missed kissing you.”

Their lips connected in a slow sensual kiss and he appreciated how right she felt in his arms and from the stirring in his pants his own body appreciated hers too. “I missed that too,” she said when they finally pulled away. “I’m sure there’ll be plenty of time for that though. Come on.” She tugged on his hand. “Help me finish this so we can feed your boy.”

“That kid has a bottomless pit for a stomach,” he laughed, as she handed him a knife and shot out some instructions on what she wanted.

Twenty minutes later they were carrying dishes to the living room together. “I see you’ve met Snoopy,” Michonne said as they reentered to find Carl and André playing with the black fur ball. “Go wash your hands for lunch.”

Michonne pushed a low vintage looking wooden table into the center of the room while Rick placed the bowls down. “André and I don’t usually use the dining table over there. Besides, this is way more comfortable.”

André returned and grabbed a throw pillow and moved down to the rug where he sat cross legged and Carl followed suit. Michonne took a seat on the couch across from him and Rick moved to sit beside her. “Lunch is served,” he said, passing empty plates from the stack around.

“Dig in.” Michonne scooped food onto André’s plate making sure to cut his meat into small pieces for him.

“This is so good Michonne,” Carl said through a mouthful of food.

“Thanks, but you should actually thank your Dad for that one too. He added most of the finishing touches.”

“Can you pour me some water please Mama?”

“Sure baby.”

They talked about their week over lunch and Carl was happy to share his news about his new friends that he made and how much more he was beginning to like living in Virginia. André gave the room pause, when he shared some news of his own. “My grandpa was sick, but he’s all better now. Me and mamma gave him lots of kisses and love and he’s not sad anymore.”

“That was the family emergency,” she explained to Rick. Then she mouthed, _“later.”_ He understood that she would explain later. “But grandpa is doing well and he’s home now. He’ll be back to work in two weeks.” She didn’t sound happy about that.

“What does he do?” Carl asked.

“He’s a…politician. He works in Washington D.C. in the Capitol. You’ve been to D.C., right?”

Carl shook his head. “Not yet.”

“Rick!” She nudged his arm, wearing a shocked expression. “Are you kidding? You’ve got to take him to see the capital of the country.”

“Yeah Dad,” Carl added with a playful smirk. “There’s gonna be a school trip to D.C. soon though. It’s more toward the end of the school year, so I’ll see it.”

“Well thank goodness for school,” she teased, playfully pinching Rick. “Come on Mr. Grimes.”

“I’m all dome Mama,” André announced. “I have dessert now?”

“Yes, you can baby. I’m actually finished too.” She stood up grabbing her empty plate and stacking André’s on top. “All done Carl? Rick?”

“Yes, this was amazing. Thank you Michonne.” Rick stood up as well, helping her clear the table.

“Wait until you see what we’re having or dessert. It’s your favorite André.”

“Ice cream!” he shouted triumphantly.

“No, your other favorite.”

He furrowed his brow, as he tried to think of what his favorite dessert was supposed to be. “Cookies?”

“Chocolate cake.”

“Oh yeah,” he giggled, clapping his hands. He was such a happy child. In the short time since Rick had met him, there was constant laughter and joy emanating from the little boy.

“Rick, I’ll need your help dishing out dessert.”

He followed after her with empty plates and leftover food from the table. As soon as they were in the kitchen, she turned to lock her lips with his. “I’ll never get tired of that.”

“Good. You better not, because it’s becoming my favorite pastime. I’ll be very disappointed if you did.” He placed a hand on the small of her back, holding her against his body. “You should stop by the farm during the week. Carl will be at school.”

“So, we’ll be all alone,” she finished for him, a mischievous glint in her eye. “I like the way you think.”

“Hmm. That too.” His lips reconnected with hers and he fought the urge to lift her onto the counter and take things even further. When they pulled away, she stared up at him with her big doe eyes, a smile playing on her lips. He brushed his thumb against her soft cheek. “Are you sure you’re doing okay though? With your father and everything that happened?”

Michonne sucked her cheeks in, breaking eye contact. “I’m fine. There were no complications with his heart attack and he didn’t need surgery or anything. They just kept him for three days. He’s overworked himself and he wasn’t eating as well as he should.”

“I’m sorry.”

She smiled despondently. “My Dad’s a fighter. He’ll be fine.” She stepped out of his embrace, turning to face the kitchen counter effectively ending that line of conversation. “Let’s get this cake ready or else André won’t be a happy camper. Can you grab me some small plates, please?”

“Politician’s daughter though. I would have never guessed.” He handed her a plate and she scooped on a generous slice of cake.

The way her hand paused midway through slicing another piece of cake before she responded to him in a light playful tone didn’t elude him. “What can I say? I’m full of surprises.”

They served the children their dessert and while they dug in to their delicious treat, Rick and Michonne slipped out to the patio, keeping the door open to keep an ear out for the kids. She wrapped her arms around herself and stared silently down at the city below.

“So, Sheriff. Do you think we might be on our way to officially dating then?” She kept her voice low as she finally turned around to face him. “Even though we haven’t technically had an actual date yet.”

“Well I’m not dating anyone and I hope you’re not.” He took a step towards her. “I’d say we already are.”

“No, no…” She shook her head. “I wouldn’t have been kissing up on you if I was.”

“Good.” He stepped even closer to her, tilting her chin upwards so he could meet her eyes. “About that date though. I still have to make up for the one we missed.“

The sound of the doorbell ringing interrupted her as she opened her mouth to respond. Her brow furrowed in confusion. “Who the hell would be here on…” She let her sentence trail of as she stepped away from him to reenter apartment.

He followed slowly after her passing André and Carl where they left them eating their dessert. “How’s it coming?”

“I could eat this forever. I don’t need any other food,” Carl said through a mouthful of cake. “We’ve got to take some of this home with us.”

Rick chuckled. “Well cake isn’t food. It’s dessert.”

“Mama says cake is only for big kids. Big kids eat all their real food and eat cake after,” André explained, looking up at Rick as if waiting for him to back him up.

“What are you doing here?” Rick hadn’t been paying attention when Michonne opened the door, but her tone and demeanor gave him pause and reminded him that there was now a visitor at the door.

“What do you mean? I can’t stop by to see my son?” A deep male voice responded and Rick found himself moving almost instinctively towards where Michonne stood. He stopped a few paces behind her, enough for him to see the person at the door.

The sharply dressed tall, dark-skinned man’s eyes drifted from Michonne and connected with Rick’s. “Oh, you have a guest?”

“Guests,” she corrected.

He raised his eyebrows, eyeing Rick from over her shoulder. “You hosting some of your art friends or something?”

“I’m not,” she answered shortly. “Is there a reason for you being here Michael? I thought you had some business in Massachusetts to attend to? Did it get called off? Are you here to take André?”

“Uh…no it didn’t,” Michael crossed his arms and still seemed to be trying to decipher what was going on in the other room. “I thought I’d talk to you, but I didn’t think you’d have _guests_. You gonna let me in or not?”

Michonne sighed dejectedly before stepping aside to allow him to enter the apartment. “Please call next time Michael. I’m not okay with you just showing up unannounced.”

“Daddy!” André stood up, running towards his father while Michonne shot Rick an apologetic look that left him perplexed.

“Hey little man.” Michael lifted André into his arms as he took in the occupants of the room. He took a step toward Rick, holding out his hand. “I’m Michael. Michonne’s ex fiancé.”

He shook Michael’s hand as he tried to keep his expression even. “Rick Grimes.”

Michael glanced at Carl, who was polishing off the last of his cake. “Play date?” he asked referring to the considerably older boy. He had an arrogance to him that Rick didn’t particularly like. He circled the small area by the door slowly as he furtively surveyed the room.

Michonne ignored his prying question, asking one of her own. “What was it that you wanted again?” She tried to keep her tone light, her annoyance was clear. Rick strolled away from them, rejoining Carl where he was seated.

“I can’t say bye to my kid?”

She folded her arms across her chest as if to avoid drawing attention to her clenching hands. “I never said that.”

“Can you talk? We could go in the other room,” he said glancing pointedly at Rick. “There’s something you should know.”

“Actually, can it wait? I do have _guests_. Is it something urgent?”

“It can wait. We’ll talk when I get back from this trip.” He quickly glanced at his watch. “Well I just wanted to say bye to my little man.” He peppered kisses on André’s forehead as the boy giggled happily. “Oh, and I spoke to Winnie. Glad to hear everything is okay. Heart attacks are scary. I know that must have been tough for you since you guys are so close.”

“It was.” Her tone somewhat softer. “Thanks Michael.”

“Well I should head out then.” He put André down, adjusting his suit jacket and checking his watch again. It almost seemed like a nervous habit. “I’ve got to head back to D.C. for my flight.”

“So nice of you to drive all the way from D.C. just to tell André bye. That’s so thoughtful of you _Mike_.” Michonne wore a wide smile on her face, but her eyes said otherwise. It was clear that he stopped by for reasons beyond saying goodbye.

Over time, Rick would be able to decipher all the thoughts and emotions that she had grown to hide so well. Her evasiveness would be one of their rare points of contention.

“Isn’t it?” Michael returned with an equally sarcastic tone. “It’s a short drive though, so there’s no “ _all_ ” in that way. See you next week. We’ll talk when I get back since you have company now. Bye little man.”

André waved at his father, making his way back to his spot next to Carl. “Bye Daddy.”

“Nice meeting you _Rich_ ,” Michael called to Rick. “I’ll leave you guys to your playdate. Sorry if I interrupted.”

“Likewise,” Rick answered dryly, ignoring Michael’s seemingly deliberate use of an incorrect name. He watched as Michonne walked him to the door, shutting it behind him and letting out a long exhale. She remained facing the door for some time. He imagined her eyes were probably shut as she tried to regain her composure.

 When she finally turned back to face the room, she wore a smile on her face but there was a dullness behind her eyes.

“You two enjoyed your dessert,” she sang, addressing the two boys. She was determined to return to her high spirits and it was working. Instead of the rigid posture she wore seconds ago, she was now light and happy again.

“It was yummy mama.”

She placed a loud kiss on his forehead, causing him to giggle and pull away slightly. “Thanks sweetheart.”

“Yeah,” Carl agreed. “Thanks, Michonne.”

“I’m glad you liked it. You guys had fun so far today?”

“Yep. And we’re definitely getting a dog, but bigger.” Carl declared, looking at his father to let him know he was serious about the dog. “I want a Rottweiler.”

“I hear you, son.”

“Good.” Carl twisted his mouth as if in deep thought. “You’re an artist, right?”

“Mommy makes pretty pictures with her paint.”

Carl perked up. “Can we see?”

“Yeah.” Rick locked eyes with her. “Let’s see.”

“I would be a terrible host if I deny you.” She pointed to the stairs leading up to the loft. “Come on. It’s up here. Not many people get to see my lair.” She winked at Rick as she started ascending the stairs. “Only those I really like.”


	5. The Second Date

She was becoming one of Rick's favorite parts of his new life. After their lunch date with their children, they continued seeing each other regularly and the more time they spent together, the less they had company. Their first date came and went and their relationship began to progress at a comfortable pace.

"Do you think this counts as a long-distance relationship?" Michonne asked, late one Saturday afternoon while they were lounging in her living room sans children. Her leg was thrown over his waist and his hand rested firmly on her rear as they faced each other. Rick ended up arriving more than an hour early for their date and she was more than happy to have the extra time with him. They both enjoyed spending some quiet time in each other's company, just being.

And they were completely alone.

André was spending the weekend with his father and Carl was away with his aunt and uncle to celebrate his uncle's birthday.

"I'm too far away for you?"

"Well you did drive forty-five minutes to get here. That sounds like a pretty long distance to me." She moved her middle and index finger in a crawling motion up his chest before tapping his nose.

She closed her eyes, humming softly to the soft music emanating from her iPod docking station. She told him it was her working music. It was meant to stir her creativity and put her in the mood for working on her art. She had been up in her loft painting when he arrived and she moved the music from up there to the living room. Perhaps she had some other type of creativity stirring that did not involve art.

"What exactly do you do during the week?" Although they saw each other often, he often wondered what she did with her time. He wasn't sure about the type of schedule an artist would have. He tried to imagine her typical weekday. He could see her visiting galleries. Maybe she she spent most of her time painting? Attending wine tastings? What does Michonne Westbrook actually do?

She grinned, biting her lip before answering in a conspiratorial whisper. "It's a secret."

"Come on." He tickled her side causing her to laugh and squirm away from his hand. Every time they saw each other, he was a little shocked that she made time to spend with him. "I know you spend a lot of time on your art. What else?"

"I told you before that I'm a wedding planner," she said, playfully pulling his ear. "That's mainly what I do, but I'm on a break from that for a while. Call it a mini vacation. I have no other secret occupation besides those two."

Michonne's phone buzzed and she twisted in his arms to grab it from the coffee table. She glanced at the text message on the screen before letting out an annoyed groan and typing out a quick response.

"Everything alright?"

"Fine," she said absently as she sat up into a sitting position. "It's just Michael. It's always something. Sometimes I'm just glad some things are in the past."

"Right. He's something," he grunted, tightening his arm around her waist. She shifted in his arms attempting to leave the couch. "Where're you going?"

"We're supposed to be going out tonight," she reminded him as if he had forgotten. "I need to get ready."

He tugged at the edge of her shirt, his hand slipping under the fabric to rest on her lower back. Her slight shiver in response brought a smile of satisfaction to his face, knowing that he had an effect on her. "I thought you were already ready."

She glanced down at what she was wearing giving him a look. "I'm not going to wear this top, Rick. I don't even have a bra on."

"Well…don't." He gave her a suggestive grin, causing her melodic laugh to escape her lips, her brief, but tense communication with Michael seemingly forgotten.

"Before the second date?" she asked in a sultry whisper as she leaned in to kiss him slowly. He groaned, her effect on him apparent by the stirring in his pants.

"You're right." He rubbed her lower back when she pulled away. "That's for right after the second date. Hurry up and change."

Michonne stood up, his hand sliding down her back to briefly rest on her ass as she moved. "I'll be back in a minute." He watched as she sauntered toward the hallway leading to her bedroom. As she reached the edge of the hall, she surprised him, by lifting her shirt over her head and slowly removing it with her back still facing him.

She didn't need to turn around to know that he was staring at her naked, braless back, slack jawed. "Maybe after," she said loud enough for him to hear, before continuing on her way.

Rick sat up leaning his head back against the couch with an audible groan. "Now she's just trying to kill me," he mumbled to himself as he adjusted his pants. Their physical relationship wasn't beyond heavy kissing and partial nudity as of yet.

When she reemerged from her bedroom, her outfit had changed entirely, but she still remained somewhat casually dressed, Rick supposed. "I'm ready Sherriff. We don't want to be late."

"Right." It was their second official date and this particular venue was a suggestion from her friend Ezekiel King. It was his newest business venture and he wanted them to experience it while it was still a 'novelty', as he called it. "I'm ready to learn how to cook like a world class chef. Carl will be proud."

"Don't worry you'll love it," she said, grinning up at him. "It's a great date idea and I think you need a taste of all that the city has to offer."

Once they were in his truck, Michonne gave him directions to Ezekiel's newest business venture which would host cooking date nights every other weekend. The venue had not been officially opened to the public yet and mainly hosted private events until the grand opening. For the time being, Ezekiel wanted his closest friends to visit while the business got established and ideas developed. It was a change from their previous date when he had already taken her out to dinner in Alexandria. "Okay so Ezekiel said this is going to be sort of casual but fun. Plus, chef Morgan is an amazing Chef."

He took one of her hands in his as he continued to drive. "You're pretty good at cooking yourself. Amazing actually."

"Not as good as Morgan. He's world class and was trained in freaking Paris. He knows his shit," she said as she glanced down at the direction on her phone and peered out the window. "It's on the next right."

Once they arrived at their destination, he parked in the packed parking lot and they got out of the truck. "So, besides owning an art gallery and restaurants, does this Ezekiel do anything else exciting?"

"He's a bit eccentric." She wore an amused expression as they strolled across the lot to the place with 'Ezekiel's Table' written in glowing bright neon letters. "He's actually just "adopted" a tiger you know."

"How the hell do you adopt a tiger?"

"Well the tiger isn't technically adopted in the sense that he has it at home. It's more of a symbolic adoption and she still lives in a zoo. It's something anyone can do. Her name's Shiva and I will be painting her," she said proudly. "He has had the tiger at his home though, before she was moved to the zoo. He knows a guy. But if he could keep the tiger permanently in his home, he would. Believe me."

"That's crazy, but he seems like a good guy."

"He is. You don't meet too many Ezekiel's in this world. We've known each other for years now and I can honestly say he's one of the greatest people I've ever met and the best mentor and friend I could ever hope to have."

"And you deserve that. It makes sense for you to have good people around you. You have that goodness in you too."

She smiled, looking away from him. "You always say that. You don't know that. You barely –"

"Know you?" He cut her off before she could continue the sentence he's heard too many times in their weeks together. He wrapped an arm around her waist as they approached the entrance. "Isn't that what we've been doing? Or am I missing somethin' here?"

She was a beautiful woman with a wonderful sense of humor and he could honestly see himself with her for a long time, but her guardedness frustrated him at times. It amazed him at times, how she could manage to simultaneously reveal so much and yet so little about herself. It felt as if he had to wrestle information out of her.

"That's right."

"Good. Let's make it so that sentence can't be a truth anymore, alright? I don't like hearing it."

"Okay."

They strolled past a display for 'Date Night with Chef Morgan' and a hostess directed them to the large room with six workstations where they selected one near the middle, not wanting to be too close or too far. At one station, another couple sat chatting in low voices.

"Ezekiel has been asking me to host a wine and paint class on the other side one of these days. That should be fun."

"Well look who it is." Rick looked up to find two familiar faces from Michonne's exhibition.

"What are you two doing here?" Michonne enthusiastically rose to her feet to embrace the women and the men, their dates for the evening, who accompanied them. It certainly was a night out for those who Ezekiel considered friends. "Rick, you remember Andrea and Sasha, don't you?"

"From the gallery," he said standing up to greet them as well.

"Nice to see you again Rick. Ezekiel invited me and I just had to bring Phillip here." Andrea said, exchanging a knowing look with Michonne as she led her date to a nearby station. "I can't cook for shit so this should be fun."

"Well it's nice to see you out Michonne. With Rick too," Sasha said with a cordial smile. "So, nice to see you again."

"You too."

"Oh, by the way Michonne. Will we see you at the family dinner next Sunday? It'll be nice for all of us to be with uncle David." It appeared to be a simple enough question, but he felt Michonne tense beside him. He looked between the cousin's and they seemed to be having a silent conversation with their eyes.

"I plan to," Michonne answered evenly. "Dad's actually headed back to work soon. Mom too."

"Uncle David has always been so strong. Maryland needs someone like him." Sasha looked toward Rick. "You'd like him."

"He would," Michonne responded, adding to the odd conversation. Although, Rick couldn't quite define what about it was odd. It seemed as if he was missing a key piece of information that would give an entirely different meaning to the seemingly standard friendly conversation.

"Well, Bob and I should grab a spot." Sasha glanced around at the last empty stations. "This is my fiancé Robert Stookey by the way." She placed a hand on the man's shoulder, addressing Rick. "Bob that's Rick. The farmer from the snow storm I told you about."

"Nice to meet you." The two men shook hands.

"Let's do lunch on Tuesday Michonne. It's been way too long since us girls had a chance to catch up and just chat." She glanced at the silent but pleasant man beside her. "She just loses herself in her work sometimes. So much talent."

"Great. Tuesday then."

Rick caught Michonne's eye as the couple walked away and she simply shrugged, biting her lip. "Sasha," she said, as if it were an explanation. He would eventually come to find that it certainly was an explanation, one that would inadvertently complicate things in the coming weeks.

The rhythmic sound of clapping hands drew their attention to the front of the room where a black man stood wearing a red traditional Chef's double-breasted jacket and black pants. He was the star of the evening.

"Welcome," he said, his warm eyes taking in the room's occupants. "I'm chef Morgan Jones and I hope you're all ready to get your hands dirty and strengthen those palates. We are not officially open for business yet, but this is how we plan to do the real thing and it is our hope that by having you here we can have the best possible opening night and some really useful feedback. So, tell your friends about this place and feel free to let me know if I suck as a teacher. I won't take any offence. It's not like I studied to be one." Amused chuckles filled the room at his joke.

"Tonight's theme involves us getting really creative with wine. It will be a part of all three courses. We have a wide selection for you to sample as you work. It'll loosen things up a bit, trust me. We will also have our photographer Jerry coming in to take a few snapshots as you work and then once you sit down for a wine and dine with your dates."

Before they began the food preparation, the couples briefly introduced themselves, even though the majority were already at least acquainted with each other. The unknown couple introduced themselves as Tara and Denise Cloyd and they were also there on Ezekiel's recommendation.

With Chef Morgan's instruction, the couples began their preparation for the main dish. As he began his task of chopping vegetables, he learned from Michonne that she did not eat any red meat so it was very fitting that they would be preparing a chicken dish rather that something involving beef as she would have expected. Rick found this interesting as he himself was a lover of all meats.

"You're really putting your all into that chopping over there," she commented in a light humorous tone.

"Yeah, so you better be takin' notes. Nobody chops peppers like Rick Grimes."

"Oh, I'm taking notes alright."

"Speaking of takin' notes, it's my mission tonight to learn all that I can learn about you in about…three hours. You did say I hardly know you."

"And you're not going to let me live that one down," she finished for him.

"Nope." He put down his knife, watching her work diligently. "Not a chance."

Rick quizzed her during the main course preparation all the way through the preparation of their red wine pear pie for dessert. He kept the questioning light and simple, not wanting their date to take any uncomfortable turns.

"This is great," she said, taking a sip of white wine before holding the glass out for him to taste. She glanced at the label on the bottle. "Pinot Grigio. It'll pair excellently with our food. I think we've found the one, but I'll see what Chef Morgan thinks. He probably has better suggestions."

He took a step toward her, placing a hand on her small waist as he took a sip from her glass, the zesty flavor of the wine filling his mouth. "Pretty good." She held his gaze with her dark shining eyes and the room seemed to disappear around them.

He had always been more of a beer guy, growing up the way he did. If it was one thing that would come from this relationship, it was him becoming more cultured. Coming from a small Georgia town, where he spent almost all his life, he didn't have too much experience outside what was the norm for King County and certainly not in the arts. Michonne was different. With her refined appreciation for art, music, literature and food, it was clear that she was from an entirely different world. It wasn't a matter of wealth, but of refinedness and ease.

Naturally, their lips ended up connecting in a slow sensual kiss in the middle of their workstation. The wine tasted even better on her soft lips. Caught up in the moment, she threw her hands around his neck, appearing to not care who was watching, and his arm tightened around her waist as he reminded himself where they were and fought the urge to lift her onto the counter and take things a bit further.

This wasn't their first steamy display in a kitchen, but it was the first in a room with seven other people.

It was Chef Morgan's soft voice that finally broke them away. "Sorry to interrupt, but your chicken might be burning."

"Shit!" Rick broke away from the kiss and picked up his spatula, but he was slow to move his hand from her waist. He chanced a glance across the room to see Andrea snickering softly with Phillip, before shooting him a thumb up.

"We can still save it," Michonne said, referring to the chicken, her expression a mixture of amusement and slight embarrassment. She refused to look over at the other stations.

They made an adequate attempt at focusing on their task throughout the rest of the preparations. Rick continued with his stirring and flipping, but his free hand always drifted toward her, pulling her close, lightly grazing her skin or resting on her hips.

"I was thinking about bringing Carl to Alexandria pick out his new dog next weekend," he said, as they started plating their dessert.

"Ooh, I bet he's so excited about that."

"Will you be in town next weekend?"

"Why? You wanna come see me Sherriff? These dates must be going as well for you as they are for me."

He winked at her. "I must be doing something right then. Dinner is served," he said dramatically adding the final touch to the slice of pie he was garnishing for her.

"I feel like you might become a natural in the kitchen," she said, taking a sip of wine, her eyes glued to his. "Chef Rick in addition to Farmer Rick? I like a multi-talented man."

The obvious innuendo in her words weren't helping the situation. He was finding it difficult to focus on anything that didn't involve his hands or his lips or anything else on her.

"Always looking for new jobs for me," he chuckled, picking up their appetizers. "Go sit down." He placed his free hand on her waist, gesturing to the beautifully set table where they would be dining on their prepared meal. "I'll serve tonight."

"So," he began after they started eating their meal. "You never did tell me about that night. How did you end up in our little town coming from a girl's spa trip?"

She laughed softly. "Turns out it was more than just a wrong turn. I was so far off from the spa I was at with Andrea and Sasha. Turns out, I would have gotten home much faster, like way before the storm started, if I had just turned on my GPS before entering your cellular dead zone of a town."

"How would you have found me then?"

"That's right," she said. "Everything that's supposed to happen happens. Maybe we were meant to meet each other that night, Rick."

"I'll thank my lucky stars for faulty GPS systems."

"Even though I was extremely pissed and worried and cold, I was happy when you came along. Everything was just going wrong that day and then you showed up and you weren't a serial killer. It was the best ending to a shitty day."

"Andre. You were trying to get home to him."

"Yean, it was a weekend, so Michael was supposed to have him, then he had a conference, so my Mom was supposed to have him, then Michael's conference got cancelled so he wanted him. Next thing I know, Andre's not feeling well and everything was just a huge mess and I knew it was only going to get fixed if I just cut the trip short and go the hell home to my child. Turns out there was some misunderstanding on my part and it all got resolved without me so there was no point in me leaving the spa in the middle of a storm anyway."

"Except to meet me."

"Yeah." A small smile formed on her lips. "Except to meet you."

"Excuse me." The pair looked up to find a bespectacled man holding a camera. "I'm Jerry. Can I take your picture for the wall? We plan to line the walls with candid photographs of our patrons."

"Sure," Michonne said, warmly to the man who had been wondering around as they cooked, snapping promotional pictures and the like. "Nice to see you again Jerry."

"Oh, that's right." Recognition dawned on his jovial face. "I knew you looked familiar. It really is a night for Ezekiel's closest friends. It's too bad he couldn't be here tonight."

"It is. How are we taking this picture?"

"Oh, it's supposed to be candid, so go back to what you're doing. I'll go around the room and snap it when I'm ready. We don't want it to look posed. We want the real you immortalized on these walls."

As Jerry walked away with his camera, Rick shot Michonne a look. "Does everybody in Alexandria act like that?"

She shrugged, playfully twisting her face in thought. "Just the ones associated with the great Ezekiel King."

He lifted his glass and she followed. "To Ezekiel King."

**~TFW~**

Rick drove her home after the date and like their previous outing, she invited him up to her apartment. There was no hesitation on his part to accept the offer.

"That was hands down, the best date I've ever been on. I had a great time." She kicked off her shoes, bending down to pet an enthusiastic Snoopy as she strolled toward the living room with him in tow. "I can't wait to see the pictures Jerry took of us."

"Probably that show we put on in the middle of the kitchen," Rick reminded her with a chuckle. "I've never considered myself an exhibitionist but I am dating an artist and I've heard a lot about those kinds."

Michonne threw her head back in laughter. "Andrea said we're clearly a pair of freaky people. That was the highlight of _her_ night."

"Should we finish what we started then?" he asked suggestively. "I mean, we don't have an audience, but I'm sure we can manage." He walked slowly toward her as she backed toward the couch, her eyes on him as he came to stand in front of her.

"We'll see," she said softly as she rose to meet his lips. He wrapped an arm around her waist, lifted her slightly, and dropped her on the couch. Her fingers ran through his hair as his mouth attacked hers.

"This is starting to get a little addicting," she breathed when he came up to catch a breath between kisses.

"Starting? Don't bruise my ego." He continued the kiss, his hands sliding up against the thin fabric of her blouse and toward her breasts. He squeezed lightly as he hovered over her, slowing their kiss. Her legs locked around his waist as he moved to hold himself above her. He let out a groan as she ground her hips below him, most likely feeling his erection pressing between her legs.

Rick let out a defeated groan when her phone buzzed angrily from her pocket between them effectively interrupting them. "Sorry," she apologized, reaching down to grab the phone. He sat back on his haunches, watching as she glanced at her screen, adjusting her shirt before answering. "Hello?"

He stood up from the couch and she quickly caught his hand before he could walk away, a pleading look in her eye. "Wait," she mouthed, holding up a finger.

"I'm just getting some water." He cupped her cheek. "Then we'll finish what we started."

He tried not to eavesdrop as he made his way to the kitchen, but it was hard to ignore her voice emanating from the other room when he heard the name of her "ex-fiancé" escape her lips with an exasperated sigh.

"Is he alright? Just keep an eye on it in case it gets worse and call me if it does…yeah, we can talk when you drop him off tomorrow." He heard her say. "I know, but I've been busy these past few weeks in case you didn't know. And I don't get what's so important that you can't just tell me over the phone like a normal person."

He filled a glass with water, leaning back against the counter as she continued. He drowned out the conversation for a moment as his mind started pondering. Michael rarely came up in any of their conversations, other than what she revealed at dinner that night. Yet he couldn't help but wonder how the man went from fiancé to ex- fiancé. He waited until he heard her say her goodbyes before he reemerged from the kitchen.

She remained in the same spot he left her, staring off at the wall with an indecipherable expression on her face. He took a seat next to her, but she didn't immediately acknowledge his presence. Minutes passed before she finally shifted her body to face him, a strange look in her eye. She scooted closer to him, placing her head on his shoulder as her delicate palm came up to rest on his chest. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft and sensual. "Stay tonight."


	6. The First Night

He woke up to her the next morning. A smile formed on his lips as he lifted his head from the soft pillow besides hers. She laid facing away from him in all her naked glory, the white sheets pulled up to her chest and her face a picture of serenity.

He watched her as she slept, remembering the night before. After Michonne asked him to stay the atmosphere in the room quickly morphed from sober to sexually charged, whatever was plaguing her mind, quickly forgotten.

_“Lay back for me,” he had said after some time of exploring her mouth with his._

_She did as he asked as he slowly drew her shirt away from her body, leaving her bare from the waist up other than her black bra. Her smooth dark skin seemed to glow in the dim light and he was filled with an unfamiliar intense upwelling of desire. He was far from inexperienced, but something about her felt different. He couldn’t quite put a finger on what it was that he felt for her in that moment._

_Rick sat back, taking her in, his eyes moving over her body from her supple lips to her shimmering eyes and soft skin of her chest. Michonne raised her brow, a curious look on her face. She was probably wondering why he his gaze was transfixed on her. He slowly reached forward, his fingers sliding against the strap of her bra right above the swell of her breasts. He slowly moves his fingers up the strap moving over her shoulder to reach behind her and unclasp it with deft fingers._

_Their eyes remained connected as he drew the material away from her chest, the straps falling away from the shoulders as it moved. He felt her hand in his hair as he lowered his head, his tongue swirling around her hard nipple, lightly biting down.  Once he had his mouth on her body, he couldn’t tear himself away, it was as if he wanted to consume her._

_His hands replaced his mouth as his lips connected her mouth once again. Her own hands were occupied with attempts to remove his clothes as he pressed his body against hers, his arousal apparent. He reached back to tug his shirt off and her pants followed after._

_He drove in  with a vigorous thrust and their bodies began moving together sinuously in the dim light.  She closed her eyes, soft moans and gasps escaping her lips as they established a cohesive rhythm. Her fingers dug into is skin and she began gasping is name as they worked toward orgasm. At some point after their coupling he carried her to the bedroom where they fell asleep, tangled in each other’s arms._

As if she could sense his eyes on her, she began to stir, bringing him back to the present. She yawned softly as her eyes slowly blinked open as she was roused from her sleep. She turned over so she was on her back and a smile spread across her smooth angelic face as she gazed at him with sleepy eyes.

He wrapped an arm around her waist, drawing her closer. “Finally awake, beautiful?”

She smiled sleepily, laying her head against his chest, her bare leg rubbing against his as they lay skin to skin under the sheets. She slowly ran her hand over his chest. “Good morning to you too.”

“Sleep well?”

“More than well.” She languidly stretched her legs, wiggling her toes against his leg. “What’s on the agenda for today.”

“Well, I can think of a way to spend the morning,” Rick said, emphasizing the meaning of his words with the slight movement of his hips against her.

“Really? How?” Her voice was low and raspy with desire as she innocently batted her hooded eyes at him.

“Well it’s gonna start something like this.” He tightened his arm around her, shifting her body so her naked chest was flush against his.

“This feels very familiar.”

“Does it?” He shifted his lower body, his erection pressing against her pelvis.

In the untimeliest manner, her phone interrupted, buzzing angrily on the dresser. He groaned in frustration and she smiled apologetically at him before reaching for it. Her naked body sliding against his as she moved, their bodies dangerously close to having a repeat of the night before. “Hello?”

A faint voice echoed through the phone in response. “Oh, hey Mom…Oh you are? “Brunch? I already have plans for the day actually.” She listened as her mother spoke and his hands slowly circled her hips as he waited for her to finish her phone call. “How about Tuesday? You can join Sasha and me. I’ll be in DC for the day anyway…”

Rick felt her body tense in his arms before she slowly unhooked his hands from her waist, scooting away so she could leave the bed. He watched as she rose, naked, from the bed, reaching for her robe. She turned to mouth ‘be right back’ at him before she shuffled out of the bedroom.

He was tempted to wait for her to finish her call so they could finish what they started, but there would be plenty of time for that.  What they needed was a quick energy booster.

When he entered the living room, he could hear her voice faintly echoing from the loft. He found his boxers on the floor near the couch and pulled them on idly wondering why she ventured up there to talk to her mother.

He was already started on breakfast when she strolled into the kitchen. “My thighs are sore and I blame you,” Michonne announced when she joined him in the kitchen. He turned to find her robe gone and replaced by an oversized t-shirt and tiny loose shorts. “Something smells nice in here.”

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

“I’m not. I trust Carl’s opinion on your excellent breakfast making skills. So, am I finally going to get a chance to taste those famous pancakes of yours?” She wrapped her hand around his waist, resting her head against his back.

“The very ones.” He turned around, capturing her full lips in a kiss as his hand slipped down the back of her cotton shorts cupping her round, firm nude behind. She moaned into his mouth, her fingers finding his hair.

His hand rounded her waist and he lifted her onto the counter in one swift movement, breakfast momentarily forgotten. His hands started exploring under her shirt, sliding over her sides. He cupped her breasts as a devious smile formed on his face at the feel of his second favorite part of her body.

“You enjoy distracting me? I don’t want to burn these pancakes and ruin my perfect record. Don’t think I forgot how you made me burn our dinner last night. I got a long memory.”

“All I did was walk into the room. You do a pretty good job of finding distractions on your own.” She looked pointedly at his hands, which were still under her shirt kneading her breasts.

“So, we’re gonna ignore the fact that you were rubbin’ all up on my back? This was a provoked response.” He finally extracted his hands away, returning to his task. There would be more time for groping later.

“I wouldn’t call it rubbing. I was just saying hello,” she defended playfully. “I’m starting to think we might have a thing for kitchens though.”

They had their breakfast in the living room as they did with their lunch date weeks prior. Michonne turned on some music and they snuggled back against the seat of the couch from their spot on the cushion filled floor. Rick spent more time touching her than actually eating, but she certainly didn’t mind.

“I’m keeping you forever to make me breakfast whenever I want it,” she said, letting out a moan of ecstasy as she chewed.

“Told you.”

“This has been the best date I’ve ever been on by the way.” She giggled, placing her plate down on the nearby table. She gave him a quick peck of thanks on his lips as she sat back down and stole a piece of fruit from his plate. “It’s also the longest date I’ve been on. This has to be some kind of a record.”

“I must be a good thing since we’re not sick of each other yet.” He put his own plate away and pulled her closer and she moved to straddle his lap. Her phone buzzed and she glanced over at the screen on the table but made no move to get it.

“Sorry, my phone isn’t usually that busy,” she apologized. “I lose the damn thing half the time. It usually pisses Michael off. It’s just been a hectic few weeks, so I keep it close.”

“It’s fine. So, ex-fiancé again, huh?” He nodded toward the phone.

“You caught that ex-fiancé thing?” She rolled her eyes, remembering Michael’s description of their relationship.

“Well, I was standing right there when he was puffing up his chest for me.”

“Good ‘ol Michael.”

“What happened there?”

She shrugged noncommittally, averting her gaze. “Maybe it was my fear of commitment or maybe it wasn’t meant to be. I’m going to paint for a little while, okay? Join me? You’ll get to see me in action.” She placed a soft kiss on his lips. “And maybe not just painting action.” She stood up from his lap, strolling away from him.

He didn’t immediately follow her.

Her guardedness frustrated him at times. It was amazing how she could reveal so much and yet so little about herself at the same time. It felt as if he had to wrestle information out of her. It was clear his bringing up her ex bothered her, but she was good at redirecting and playing things off.

The apartment was quiet for a while save for the sound Snoopy dragging his back against the floor as he entertained himself in the way dogs do. He shook his head in amusement at the silly animal.

He finally heard her moving around from above. She must have started working on the piece from the day before. He rose from the couch and made his way toward the stairs to find her. When he entered what she referred to as her lair, she was seated in front of an easel and her hair was pulled to the top of her head. She wore a look of deep concentration and she didn’t immediately acknowledge his presence when he entered.

“Sorry about that.”

“About what?” She took a sip from her glass, but didn’t look up from the easel.

“For bringing up something you obviously don’t want to talk about. It’s just frustrating sometimes. The evasiveness.”

“You think I’m hiding something.”

“I don’t know. Are you?”

“I don’t know.” She held his gaze steadily before blowing out a breath and dropping her pencil. “I think I get what you’re saying though. Sorry.”

“Believe me, I’m not much of a sharer myself,” he chuckled. “It’s just…different.”

“I didn’t mind you for asking or anything,” she said with a sigh. “It’s just that he... it’s a difficult situation. This weekend is about us and I don’t want to talk about that stuff.”

Rick nodded his head, thinking back on the man that entered Michonne’s apartment unannounced under the guise of seeing his son. He still wanted to know what the man wanted and if he ever had the conversation he so desperately wanted to have with Michonne that day.

“Okay, so tell me,” she said, picking up a paintbrush and twirling it between her fingers. “What do you know about me so far other than my name and my favorite music? This is my chance to be more open.”

He thought for a moment. “I know…you’re a great listener. It’s so easy to talk to you, everything just spills out. Yet your mind is a mystery to me,” he smiled. “I also know that you’re a very caring person, you’re funny and you’re probably one of the smartest people I know.” His eyes moved over her body. “And you have a perfect body. Very nice assets. Best I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

She burst into a fit of laughter. “Sounds like you know a lot to me. Nice way to finish that off though.”

He stood up from the floor, walking slowly toward her. Her eyes followed him as he came to stand beside her. He leaned down toward her and she rose to her knees to meet his lips. He wrapped an arm around her waist and he lifted her from her stool and practically dropped her on the slightly paint splattered the couch. Her fingers ran through his hair as his mouth attacked hers.

“This is starting to get a little addicting,” she breathed when he came up for a breath.

“Starting? Don’t bruise my ego.” He continued the kiss, his hands sliding up against the thin fabric of her blouse as he lay on top of her, slowing their kiss. “You’re perfect.”

“Does this ever scare you?” she asked quietly shifting her hips beneath him as his lips trailed down her neck sending shivers up her spine. “When I’m with you I just feel… it’s a nice feeling.”

Speaking of intense, what felt in that moment would only lead to one thing. He let out a breath through his nose. “You have no idea.”

“You know, I was supposed to be working on this thing this weekend,” she reminded him. To his satisfaction, she pulled herself closer. He didn’t realize it before meeting her, but physicality was something he had been craving for quite some time. He had a longing for physical touch and a burning attraction to another person.

“Am I distracting you?” He ran his lips across her collarbone, leaving soft kisses behind. Her skin smelled wonderful.

“I didn’t plan on actually getting any painting done.” She wrapped a leg around waist and he was sure she could feel his cock against her through the thin material of his boxers.

Her t-shirt was on the floor and it was no surprise that his mouth went straight to her chest eliciting soft moans from her lips. She arched her back, pressing her chest forward.

His lips trailed up, his hands, taking their place as their lips met in a frenzied kiss. His hands explored her body, wanting to touch everywhere at once, cupping and sliding as she shook with pleasure in his arms.

His fingers slipped into the front of her pants and hers remained in his curls as he worked her toward an orgasm. His name left her lips in pleading gasps as she begged for more. Instead of words, they used their bodies to communicate. Her tugging fingers and breathless moans conveyed her need for his proximity. There was a need to prolong the passion between them.

“I want you.” His fingers left her and hooked into the waistband of her loose shorts, swiftly removing it. Her movements grew impatient and he hastily lost his only piece of clothing and pushed himself into her in one swift motion filling her body and evoking a breathless gasp from her lips. Her eyes locked with his as he braced his arms on the couch behind her. He pulled his hips back before driving forward again, sinking her body back against the couch. Her hands found his hair again as she silently begged him to continue.

She was left breathless by the sensations of the fervent undulation of his hips. His grip on her thigh tightened as he gained speed. Her toes curled and her eyes rolled back as her impassioned cries filled the room.

They somehow ended up on the floor, in their frenzied state, knocking nearby art supplies over as they descended. Their movements, if possible, were more desperate than before. The pounding of his hips grew more erratic and he slid his hands between their bodies, finding her clit to ensure they finished together.

Rick wasn’t sure how long they lay together in silence, catching their breath after they reached their peak. He kept his eyes on her perfect face the entire time as her head rested against, his chest, her eyes shut and she wore a look of contentment.

“Morning sex on my art studio floor. Not a bad way to spend the weekend.” Michonne said, breathlessly breaking the silence.

**~TFW~**

“I was in a bad place when I painted that one.”

He turned away from the somewhat disturbing painting with the angry red and black strokes and misshapen figures he was admiring to find an awake and alert Michonne, in an upright position on the couch behind him, clutching the blanket he had spread across her against her chest.  “It’s strange, but I like it.”

“Does it speak to you?” She teased, in a slightly sarcastic tone.

“I guess it might be.” He walked back toward her, climbing onto the couch behind her and pulling her into his arms. “What were you working on today?”

“My Dad’s birthday is coming up,” she shared. “I’ve been wracking my brain trying to think of what to get a man who seems to have everything.”

“What’s your family like?”

“Bougie as hell.” she laughed. “Yours?”

He shrugged. “They’re alright. The ones that are left, that is.”

She placed her hand over his, giving him a warm comforting smile. They were silent for some time and the next words out of her mouth surprised him. “I didn’t want to marry Michael.”

He sat up slightly, to have a proper look at her. She kept her eyes straight ahead as she spoke in a low voice. “We were supposedly the perfect couple. That’s what everybody called us. His grandparents are prominent political figures and my father has this great political career and with elections coming up, he might become even more of a household name. Then there’s Michael, who is pretty successful himself. Everybody knew he would be. He’s making a name for himself and he might even run for office soon.”

She closed her eyes, recollecting the past events of her life. “We got engaged long before André was even a possibility and it ended up being a very long engagement. But that was mostly because of me. I didn’t need a piece of paper, some frilly dress and a big ass wedding to say that we loved each other. I was happy just being.” She sighed, rubbing her forehead. “I didn’t know it then, but I was only with him because it felt like what I was supposed to do. Then André makes his appearance and that’s when the pressure got intense. Pressure from Michael, from my parents, from his parents. We _needed_ to get married before André arrived. During that time, I started liking him, and them, less and less and at that point I didn’t want to get married at all. There was no maybe about it anymore.”

“So, you called off the engagement?”

“Something like that.” Michoone bit her lip, appearing to consider her next words. “I wish I did that instead, it would have saved us a lot grief, drama and embarrassment, but I didn’t go to the wedding. I never showed up to my own wedding day. I was going to go through with it, but I got on a train instead and I ended up in Georgia. Thankfully, I called home before the national search party started. I just wished I handled things more maturely.”

She moved to lay her lead on his chest, looking up at him from the side. His eyes shamelessly followed her as she moved around in the nude. “It’s been four years and my Mom _still_ thinks it was pregnancy hormones,” she laughed. “That’s what she tells everybody. She’s still holding out hope for us getting back together. If only it were that simple.”

Rick chuckled. “Moms.”

“Yeah. Moms.”

“She’ll have to stop hoping for that though, because I’m pretty sure after today that’s never happening. And I don’t want people getting any wrong ideas and hitting on my woman.”

“Oh, so I’m your woman?”

“Tell me something else about yourself.” His hand caressed her thigh. It was his turn to redirect conversations to where he wanted them.

“Hmm let’s see.” She stared thoughtfully at the ceiling thinking of what she could share. “I went to law school after college.”

“Law school?”

“Mom’s a doctor and Dad’s a lawyer,” Michonne explained with a laugh. “They had really high expectations and I was really desperate to meet those expectations. I had to continue the legacy they started. So, I went to law school even though I wasn’t particularly interested in it as an actual career. Now, here I am.”

“Here you are.” He enjoyed the serene look on her flawless face. “Painting and planning weddings.”

“And happy,” she added. “Very happy.”

“What else for today?”

“The ball is still in your park cowboy. I’m all yours for the afternoon until my little man gets home at five.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” He ran a hand through his hair as ideas swirled in his head. “Let’s get out of here for a while then. I’m starving already, but I know a great little place where we can grab some lunch. I’ll have you back before five, I promise.”

“So, I take it this place is in the middle of nowhere?” she asked, sitting up and stretching her stiff muscles.

“Yep and don’t think about asking where it is. You’ll see when we get there.”

An hour later they were driving along the roads on the outskirts of the city, his hand was planted firmly on her thigh. “What are you up to this week?”

“I’m meeting a few potential people for hire. I’ll really need the extra help on the farm.”

She leaned back against the seat smiling to herself. “I can’t wait to see you in action once it’s warmer out. I can see you in a cowboy hat wrangling your herd or whatever.”

“I might disappoint you because I’m not even sure that I own a cowboy hat. You should come see if you remember how to ride though,” he suggested. “Horses that is.”

“Thanks for the clarification. Hard to keep my mind out of the gutter,” she laughed heartily as she placed a hand over the one on her thigh. “Will I have to wait until the weekend to see you again?”

Rick glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “I definitely won’t be able to stay away that long. You’re free to stop by anytime you want and if I’m in the area, and I very well might be, I’ll give you a call. Six days is too long.”

“Tuesday, it is then.” She peered skeptically out the window. “I know we’re way past the serial killer thing, but I’m starting to get worried about where you’re taking me. I don’t see no buildings, Rick. Don’t forget I’ve taken kickboxing lessons and I’m not afraid to come back and haunt you if you try any funny business.”

He chuckled at their running joke. “You’re too funny. We’ll be there in a minute and it’s a real eating establishment, not my kill room.” The small building came into view sometime after and he pulled into the parking lot.  “Here we are.”

“What is this place?” she asked, as she climbed out of the truck.

“It’s actually Carl’s discovery and I was skeptical at first, because it looks like something straight out of a horror movie, but it’s apparently well known around these parts and they have great food.”

“These parts, huh?” She linked her hand through his, smiling at the hilarious thought of the place being well known when there hardly seemed to be anything around those parts to begin with. “Well I’ll trust Carl’s judgement. He hasn’t failed me yet.”

They entered the diner and a man with bright red hair greeted them and introduced himself as Abraham, the co-owner of the establishment. Rick hadn’t met him before on his previous visits to the diner, but the man appeared friendly and open.

“Good selection of southern cuisine,” Michonne said, as she glanced down at the menu. “Nice décor too. I like it.”

“Hello there.” A man with an inexplicably bad mullet, that Rick recognized as the painfully awkward Eugene stood at their table with a pen and notepad. “My name is Eugene and I will be serving you your midday meal. You should thank your lucky stars today isn’t a rush day because you would have a wait. Luckily we have a quick and fail-safe delivery system here so you’ll be eating said mid-day meal in a jiffy and on your way to partake in other afternoon festivities that don’t involve sitting in a single place for an extended period of time.”

The pair stared slightly slack-jawed at their waiter as he finished his long-winded and bizarrely worded sentence. Michonne was already convinced that they had officially entered the twilight zone and she was prepared to just go with it. “Good to know. Well we know what we want.” Rick went on to order them a few of his and Carl’s favorites and Eugene shuffled away to the kitchen, promising to return quickly.

“Something tells me we’re in for an interesting afternoon.”

You have no idea,” Rick laughed.


	7. The Matriarch

Rick was elsewhere when she met with Sasha and her mother the following Tuesday. If he had been there, as unlikely as that scenario would be, the meeting would have offered some timely clarity on the Westbrook family dynamics. Unfortunately, in life, not everything occurs in a timely manner.

That Tuesday the Westbrook matriarch stepped into the upscale Washington DC restaurant, a frequent hub for the famous and those prominent figures in the political world, with a purpose. She approached the hostess, her eyes scanning the restaurant for her daughter and niece.

"Hello." She mustered up her warmest smile. Appearances were everything in this world and she was sure to pass on that nugget of truth to her only daughter. Although the young woman seemed to forget her mother's teaching at times. "Westbrook party of three."

"Right this way ma'am," the hostess said leading the woman further into the restaurant. "The other two are already here."

The tension between the two younger women at the table was thick. It appeared that Winnie Westbrook would be conducting some damage control on what was sure to be more than a friendly brunch, whether they realized it or not.

"Hello ladies." She gracefully took a seat at the table. "Beautiful day, isn't it? How are we today?"

"Great."

"What about you sweetheart?" She turned her eyes to her daughter who seemed to have managed to dress in something other than her usual colorful hippie attire. White always did look good on her.

"Doing great Mom," Michonne answered, lifting her glass to her lips and avoiding her gaze. "How's Dad doing?"

"He's moving forward strong and steady. You know your father. He'll be back into the swing of things in no time." She picked up the menu and started browsing through even though she already knew what she would order. It was what she always ordered. "Nobody said becoming the first black governor of Maryland would be easy. A little heart attack is just battle scars in the grand scheme of things."

"Is he announcing soon?"

"Not quite yet. We're waiting for the perfect moment, but we've been creating a little media buzz though. Dropping some nuggets here and there to get him on people's minds." She placed down the menu, looking between the two women. "But enough about all that political mumbo jumbo talk. This is about us ladies catching up. How have you two been? Deanna Monroe told me she bought an excellent piece from your exhibition Michonne. The talent from my side of the family is strong, so you get that from me."

She let out a throaty laugh and the other two joined in polite laughter.

"Oh yeah. It wasn't one that was for sale, but she managed to convince me."

"She can be very persuasive. A woman who knows what she wants and takes it. She's good to have on our side," Winnie said with a knowing nod. "And how's the wedding planning going Sasha? I'm so looking forward to that day."

"It's still in the very early stages. Bob and I can't wait to walk down the aisle. We're still trying to decide on a date."

Sasha often referred to Bob, the love of her life. Whether that was true or not, was unknown, but the pair seemed content with each other. They met two years prior at a military base in Bethesda where Bob worked as a doctor at the Walter Reed National Medical Center. Coincidentally Michonne's mother worked three minutes away at the National Institutes for Health.

"Have you hired a planner yet?"

"I'm considering my options. There still so much to do and it's honestly a little overwhelming to even decide where to start."

"It's okay to feel a little overwhelmed. As long as there are no second thoughts." Winnie's eyes flitted to Michonne. "I'm sure Michonne would love to offer any input you might need. She's probably met some great planners since she spends so much time around weddings and all that. It's such a shame she hasn't attended one for herself yet." She held up her two hands with her index finger twisted around her middle finger. "Fingers crossed though. Michael's still single as far as I know and if that doesn't work out, maybe she might meet a nice man at your wedding. I'm sure Bob has some good-looking cousins because lord knows Michael might still be traumatized after she up and left him at the altar. _I'm_ still traumatized."

"Mom. Can we not do this now?" Michonne placed down her glass, letting out a heavy sigh, a clear indication that she did not want to go there. It was bad enough she was speaking about her as if she wasn't sitting at the same table.

Winnie decided to back down for the time being. "Okay. I'm a mother. I just want to see you happy with somebody is all. Think of how nice it would be when we're all on stage celebrating your father's win in the gubernatorial race and then the presidency some years down the line. It would be nice if you had someone at your side through it all."

"I have André."

"And what about that guy you've been seeing," Sasha interjected, sipping her wine. "He seemed really nice and the two of you seemed close."

And there it was.

Winnie plastered a mega-watt smile on her face, feigning ignorance. Her eyes flitting between the two women in an almost cartoonish way. "What guy?"

"Look it's –"

"Are you ladies ready to order?"

Michonne could have kissed the waiter for the timely interruption. "Yes, I'll have the lamb salad with fregola." Winnie and Sasha rattled off their orders after her and the waiter left them promising to be back with Winnie's drink momentarily.

"What guy?" Winnie, never one to forget easily, repeated when the waiter left. She folded her hands delicately under her chin as she waited for an answer. "Is he someone I might know? Does he work here in D.C.?"

"No, he's not actually and things are still relatively new. We've been seeing each other over a month or so."

"He's the guy who saved her from the snowstorm remember." Sasha jutted out her chin, raising her brow at Michonne. "Rick was his name, right?"

"Oh, I remember," Winnie said with a snap of her fingers as she sat back in her chair. Her eyes never left the twin pair of deep brown belonging to her daughter. "It was during that whole miscommunication thing with Michael when you ladies were up at that spa in the middle of nowhere. That whole thing is a perfect example of why proper planning and flexibility is important ladies. Especially if you are dealing with busy, successful men with careers."

"Yeah."

Michonne kept her expression neutral, but she was burning with annoyance on the inside. As far as she was concerned, what happened that night was entirely Michael's fault. It was his lack of planning and communication that led her to the streets in the middle of a snow storm despite the protests of Andrea and Sasha.

"So, you've been…seeing the, what was he? A farmer?"

Michonne sighed heavily, shifting her weight in her chair. "Yeah, he is. He owns a farm out in the countryside. That's where I was when he saved me."

Her mother barely hid the grimace that fleetingly crossed her face. "You have to be careful with those middle of nowhere small-town…folks. I'm sure you know that already darling. He could be a serial killer for all you know."

Instead of waiting for a response, she turned her attention back to Sasha, who gave Michonne an apologetic smile as her mother started talking about wedding arrangements once again. Michonne didn't missed the cleverly aimed jabs that were clearly directed her way, as her mother gushed about Bob and Sasha's upcoming marriage, Bob's numerous job offers and their future together.

"I'm so proud of you sweetheart." Those were words rarely spoken by the woman. "So, will the two of you be making a move to Baltimore after the wedding? Is Bob really thinking of leaving Walter Reed? I know how much he loves it there and it has such a good community. But that's the thing about those work environments. You get too emotionally attached. I try to step back from all of that."

"I don't think we'll leave. It's just something we've been considering, but we'll see how it goes."

"You ladies make me want to cry." Winnie nodded, dramatically fanning her face as tears welled in her eyes. "This Sunday should be a day of celebration. Oh, Michonne? Bring your guy to dinner this Sunday. I would _love_ to meet him. It sounds like things are getting serious between you and this Rick so I think it's time he meets mama Westbrook. Don't you agree?"

"I think Rick might be busy this Sunday," Michonne quickly replied, trying to think of a way to put off that meeting as long as she could possibly manage. She wasn't entirely sure Rick could handle mama Westbrook.

Winnie paused, her expression going neutral as she considered her daughter's words. "Too busy to meet your family? How serious are the two of you baby?"

"Mom, this is really new and Rick had plans from weeks before. It's a family thing. It's not like he was expecting to be invited out this weekend. Maybe at a time where there is more notice."

"Will _you_ be there though?"

"Of course. I wouldn't miss it."

"It's a shame he can't make it to meet the family," she hummed, her probing eyes never leaving her daughter's. "Some other Sunday then? If this is serious I'm sure there'll be time in the future."

"Sure."

Winnie glanced at her time as she finished signing their bill. "Well ladies, it's been nice chatting with the two of you and catching up, but I've got a meeting in half an hour. We should do this more often. I'll see the two of you on Sunday?"

"See you Sunday."

"Yep. Bye Aunty."

As the poised woman made her departure, Michonne turned to her, her shoulders dropping. "What the hell was that Sasha? Why would you do that?"

"What?"

"Sasha, you _know_ how she gets. Why would you tell her about Rick when it's still so…?" Michonne's frustration was building. "That's why she called to invite herself here, isn't it? So she can interrogate me? And make me feel like shit for being a disappointment and not living up to her standards. She still hasn't forgiven me for the mess that was my wedding day."

"I guess I just let it slip. We were talking about Deanna Monroe and your painting came up and then she started to talk about Michael and then I spoke without thinking. And she didn't make you feel like shit. Aunt Winnie is practically a saint. Maybe that's your own guilt talking." Her shoulders drew up and she appeared somewhat flustered. "Plus, I'm worried about you. How well do you even know this guy? I get that you want to live like a hippie and free and happy or whatever, but sometimes you need to step back and think things through. Stop jumping into things and running away when they get too tough."

"Thanks for your concern, but I don't need it. I'm a grown ass woman and I know how to make decisions for myself. Let me be my own person." She wasn't sure if she was directing those last words at Sasha, her mother, or herself. "See you Sunday." She grabbed her bag and rose from the table, leaving her cousin without so much as a backward glance.

* * *

Miles away from the D.C. restaurant, in the Virginia countryside, Rick was strolling along the fields of his still newly acquired farm with a man named Daryl Dixon at his side. "You can start next Monday. Spring is right around the corner and we still have preparations to make."

"Okay." Daryl Dixon proved to be a man of few words. In the three hours since Rick had known him, he only responded to direct questions and his replies were laconic at best.

"And you live in the area?"

"Yes."

Another one word answer.

"Great. Considering what you can to, it'll be good to have you 'round here." He held out his hand for Daryl to shake and the man loosely gripped his hand, giving a quick shake before letting go.

The two men stood in awkward silence for a moment until Rick's phone began buzzing in his pocket. He smiled as he glanced down at the most beautiful name in the world. Michonne called him a few hours prior to chat before her brunch date with Sasha, so he figured that must be over.

Rick patted Daryl's shoulder. "We all good here? We can go through everything else next Monday."

"Thanks. See you Monday." The man shoved his hands into his pockets, not making direct eye contact as he briskly walked away from Rick and toward his truck.

"Hello beautiful."

"Hey Cowboy!" her melodic voice rang through the phone.

"What are you up to? You all finished with the ladies."

"Uh huh," she said absently. "It was an…enlightening meal. I'm actually on my way to pick up André from school. They have an early dismissal today. How'd the interview go?"

"I hired the guy. Daryl is his name." Rick watched as the truck pulled away from the farm and he gave one final nod at his new employee. "He's really quiet and a little on the odd side, but he seems alright otherwise. I could use the help, so as long as he ain't crazy, he'll do." He began his trek back to the main house, hoping to get some rest before Carl arrived home.

"What are you doing this weekend? This week for that matter. You should drop by the 'ol farm. We'd love to see your pretty smile 'round here."

Although he couldn't see her, she nodded, plastering a smile on her face as her mind drifted back to brunch a few hours before and the discomfort part of the upcoming weekend will surely bring. "Sure. I might bring my stuff to paint on Saturday. I think a change of scenery might work wonders for me. I'll be busy Sunday though, because I have a family thing."

"Sunday dinner."

"How'd you know about that?"

"Your cousin mentioned it when we were at Ezekiel's for our date."

"Yeah, I'm going over there early to help my mom. She insists that I get there early and when my mom wants something she makes sure she gets it. By the way, mama Westbrook wants you to come to one of our Sunday dinners sometime."

"Does she?"

"It's a little early for meeting parents, but Sasha let it slip and now she insists."

"Let it slip, huh?"

"I just mean, she told my mother that I'm seeing someone, so I'm sure everybody knows. That's not something I discussed with her or anybody yet for that matter. Carl and André don't even know about us. You're probably picking him up from school soon, right?"

"He's riding home with a friend just for today. I didn't know how long I would be with Daryl and everything today and his friend's mom insisted it was alright when I dropped him off this morning. He gets on well with her two boys."

"Well that's really nice of her."

He collapsed on the couch, kicking off his boots with a heavy sigh. "So, back to my original question. When am I going to see you again? I'll make a trip into the city if I have to."

Michonne voice was low and sultry. "You can drop by any time. Trust me, I won't mind. That was some weekend we had. Why? Miss me?"

Rick adjusted the growing hardness in his pants. "You have no idea."

"So I take it, we'll be seeing each other before Saturday."

"Clearly."

"Tomorrow it is then, sheriff."

Michonne hung up with Rick, making her way through the small group of chattering parents gathered outside André's school with their children at their side. As she approached his classroom, a small ball of energy came tumbling toward her.

"Mommy look what I drew!" André yelled excitedly bouncing on his toes as he waved a paper in front of his mother. His big brown eyes were shining with excitement.

"What do we have here?" She took the sheet of paper with its explosion of colorful crayon wax, appraising it with a nod of approval. "Abstract art. You have some real talent there Bump. What do you call it?"

"Drawing!"

"Pretty cool. I can't think of a better name."

"Uh huh. It's a horse and a boat." He traced over the scribbles, outlining the abstract figures.

"I like it," she declared. "Do you want me to keep it or…"

"I want to give it to grandpa like you. I make another one for you." He already made up his mind.

"That's so sweet of you." She leaned forward to place a wet kiss on his forehead, before taking his hand. "Grandpa will love this." She waved at his teacher saying her goodbyes as they exited the private school that Winnie made sure to have the availability for her grandson to attend. She was, after all, friends with one of the board members and had provided much needed services in the past due to her position at the NIH.

"Learn anything cool today?" she asked the boy as they strolled across the parking lot to her silver car. She smiled whenever she saw it, remembering her favorite cowboy.

"A lot of things," he replied, as he climbed into the backseat of the car.

Once they pulled away from the preschool, André broke the silence with a question Michonne expected for some time, but wasn't particularly prepared to answer. "How come me, you and daddy don't live together? Sarah says we're s'posed to."

She glanced up at her son through the rearview mirror, smiling slightly at the inquisitive young boy. "Daddy has his own home and so does mommy. All families are different and not all mommies and daddies live together. In fact, not everybody has a mommy and a daddy. Think of Paul's family. We're all different and that makes us special."

André twisted his mouth, his little mind making sense of her words for a moment before simply replying "okay." That explanation would work for him for the time being. "Daddy wants a family."

"What do you mean?" she asked, trying not to jump to any conclusions about what Michael may or may not have done to bring on this line of questioning. "What makes you say that?"

"I heard him," he said, unzipping his backpack and pulling out one of his books. He seemed to be losing interest in the conversation already. "People like to see families. And they eat a pear with ants."

"What people?"

"People." André shrugged his little shoulders, engrossed in the page in front of him. Michonne sighed, looking out at the road ahead. She gave up on keeping up with Michael and his antics long ago. Part of her knew something deeper was going on, but she decided not to dwell too much on it.

Upon arriving home to their apartment André ran to the table to finish with his workbook while Michonne headed to the kitchen to fix him an afternoon snack. She kept André's words at the back of her mind knowing sooner or later they needed to have a talk.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she groaned audibly upon seeing the flashing name.

Speak of the devil.

"Michael," she answered the phone.

"You know, I miss the days when you used to call me Mike. You sound like my mom when she's pissed about something when you say Michael like that."

"Yeah well…"

"How you been? We never got a chance to talk. Pick up and drop off with André has been pretty quick lately. If I didn't know any better I'd say you were avoiding me."

Michonne's eyes seemed to roll on their own accord. "Avoiding you? I see you every Friday and Sunday afternoon. I don't see you any more or any less than I normally do. There's no need for avoidance, _Michael_."

"Alright, alright. Somebody is clearly in a bad mood," he chuckled. "Remember what I told you you a few weeks ago?"

She pretended otherwise. "I don't know what you mean, you ask a lot of things. I don't pay attention to them all."

"You know damn well what I mean."

"Are you talking about getting back together? We both know that's not happening in this lifetime, so I hope that's not what you're bringing up again."

"I know and I don't expect it to. It's just that, I've started seeing someone. It might be getting serious."

"Serious huh?" She grabbed a plate for André's lunch. "I hope the lucky girl wasn't _seeing_ you when you were making the case for us getting back together. That would make the seriousness very questionable."

"Don't be like that," he chuckled, never one to take her seriously. Even when her tone was acerbic, he knew she held no real animosity toward him. "Plus, word on the street is that you're dating again so good for you."

She silently cursed Sasha again even though she knew her cousin had no ill intent. "Is there a reason for this call Michael?" she asked in a sugary sweet voice she used when trying not to lose her patience. "Because it seems to me like you're saying a whole lot of nothing and my schedule is already full with enough nothingness."

"I just wanna talk," he said. "In person. Can we do lunch sometime this week? I know you said you weren't busy. Pencil me in somewhere in between that nothingness."

"Fine," she agreed, just wanting to get this "talk" over with. "Tomorrow afternoon? You can pick the place. I don't have any particular preferences."

"Just like old times. Still the same Michonne. See you tomorrow."

Michonne hung up the phone and placed it down on the counter taking deep, calming breaths before picking up André's food to bring to him.

"Thanks mommy," he said as she placed the plate in front of him.

"Eat and then finish your work okay? Mommy will be back in a minute." She kissed his forehead and walked down the hallway leading to her bedroom. She needed a moment. She wasn't sure if it was guilt or anger, eating at her, but she needed to gather herself.

As she plopped down on the edge of her bed, her mind starting drifting back to that day, five years prior. She always wished she had handled that day better. Michael may be a little selfish at times, but he wasn't a bad person and he didn't deserve her selfishly walking out on him with no explanation. She felt as if she should have been more forceful in her objections to the marriage instead of running away from her fears.

Commitment phobia, they called it.

Apparently, women like her have an intrinsic fear of the inability to commit to serious undertakings like marriage. It was either that, or she wasn't genuinely in love.


End file.
